Run This Way
by xBleedingBlackRosex
Summary: When Blaine meets the world-famous model Kurt Hummel, his entire world is thrown into chaos. Is it possible to have a lasting relationship with such a camera-magnet celebrity like Kurt? model!Kurt, future!fic, AU
1. Chapter 1: The Fashion Show

**Dedicated to: Yelah Ausgrhatin, my muse and platonic soulmate.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Fashion Show<strong>

"I can't believe you guys are making me come with you," Blaine grumbled, just loud enough for Wes and David to hear him over the din of the subway. "This is like borrowing a toddler to go see a kid's movie at the theater."

"Except way better, because we're borrowing a gay man to go see a fashion show full of really hot girls!" Wes beamed excitedly.

"And boys," David added for Blaine's benefit.

He rolled his eyes. "You know, _shockingly_, being gay doesn't automatically make me interested in fashion. Or in spending my evenings watching artificial sticks prance down a runway in clothing that no _normal_ person would ever actually buy or wear."

"Oh come on, you've got an entire shelf crammed with fashion magazines at home," Wes accused.

"That's different," he mumbled.

"Lighten up, man," David chided, flinging an arm around his shoulder as they reached their stop and exited the train. "Jessica's scored us backstage passes after the show! We're gonna get to meet the models. Try not to be such a sour puss about it. You might just end up having _fun_."

Blaine sighed, but held his tongue. He knew further argument would be futile. _It's just one night_, he reasoned with himself, shrugging off David's arm as they walked up the stairs onto the busy sidewalk. _I've been working myself to the bone lately. I deserve a break. It's just a silly fashion show…_

…

He quickly realized that it was _not_ just a silly fashion show.

When they arrived, the crowds were already gathering, jostling to get good seats, chatting loudly with one another. There were cameras everywhere. The runway was a raised platform set out in the middle of the street, with rows of fold-out chairs set up to face it from all three sides. An enormous tent hid the backstage area from view. The three seats reserved for them – courtesy of David's sister, Jessica – were at an ideal angle near the end of the stage.

"I'm going to go find Jessica and thank her again," David announced.

"I'll go with," Wes volunteered. Blaine knew he just wanted an excuse to check out the models backstage before the show began.

"I think I'll stay." He crossed his arms and slouched a little in his chair, making sure they knew he was still grumpy about being dragged along. They departed for the tent, weaving through the tightly-packed crowds and ducking under large cameras. Blaine took a deep breath and tried to relax.

"Twenty bucks says you're not here voluntarily."

He jumped and turned to the voice that had come from behind him. A tall young man stood there in a knee-length black overcoat and a furry hat, smiling down at him and clearly amused. Blaine couldn't help but notice that he had a beautiful smile.

"Guess I owe you twenty bucks, then," he joked. "My friends made me come."

"I'm assuming this isn't really your thing?" The stranger slipped gracefully into David's unoccupied seat next to him. It was impossible for Blaine to miss how the red jeans clung to the man's skin as he crossed his legs and folded his hands neatly in his lap. Blaine sat up straighter, suddenly very conscious of his posture.

"No, not really," he confessed. "This is my first time at a real fashion show. Runways have never really interested me…" He met the taller man's gaze. He had stunning eyes – blue at first, but upon closer inspection Blaine could make out the gray and green and gold. They seemed to ask for further explanation. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I read _Vogue_ religiously, but there's something totally different about fashion in magazines and fashion on a stage…Like, the whole _strutting_ thing, y'know? There's just something so vain about it."

The man stared at him for a moment, clearly taken aback. But then he laughed. It was a nice sound. Light. Unrestrained. "My god, I'm afraid you're not going to enjoy the show very much, then."

"I mean, I don't want to sound ungrateful," he quickly added. "My friend's sister had to pull a lot of strings to get us these seats. But it's just– To me, runways always make it seem like appearance is more important than anything else, like you can only make it in this world if you're drop-dead gorgeous. Which, of course, isn't true!"

Mr. Pretty Eyes nodded thoughtfully. "But the models in _Vogue_ are different?"

"Well, yeah, in a way. The purpose is retail; they're photographed in those outfits in order to get that clothing _sold_. From what I can tell, runways are just a place to show off the models' amazing size-zero bodies and the outfits that only the rich and famous would ever even _consider_ wearing."

"But how else would the designers be able to show off their collections?"

Blaine shrugged. "A photoshoot, I suppose."

Sir Dreamy Smile raised an eyebrow. "So basically you're saying that modeling is fine as long as it's through a camera?" It was not accusatory; simply observant. "Interesting…"

"Kurt! There you are!"

A lean Asian man in a suit came bustling up to them, completely ignoring Blaine as he latched onto the taller man's arm. "I've been looking for you everywhere! You've got to start getting ready."

The man apparently named Kurt stood up with a dramatic sigh. "Keep your pants on, Mike, I'm coming." But he turned back to Blaine and stuck out a hand. "It was nice to meet you…"

"Blaine," he filled in, taking the proffered hand and shaking it. "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt flashed him a stunning smile. "Well, it was lovely chatting with you, Blaine Anderson. I hope you aren't too bored by the show. I'll do my best not to _strut_ too much."

And then it finally clicked.

Blaine's jaw fell into his lap, but luckily Mike was already hurrying Kurt away towards the tent so nobody saw the idiotic look on his face. _Oh my god. Oh my god, I'm such an idiot!_ He couldn't believe that he hadn't recognized him, hadn't realized who he was talking to. But in his defense, he never expected _Kurt freaking Hummel_ to ever start a conversation with him. Now he'd made a complete ass out of himself, going on and on about how vain and materialistic runways were, not realizing that the man he was talking to was probably the most well-known male model in the world.

"Dude, Blaine, you okay?"

He shook himself, tried to compose his features into something remotely held together. "I– Yes, David. I'm fine."

His friends slid into their seats, studying him worriedly. "You sure?" Wes pressed.

"Yes," he lied. "Fine. Did– uh, did you guys find Jessica?"

David nodded. "She was really busy, though. But we got a glimpse into the tent, and it was…_Wow_."

"This is gonna be awesome," Wes breathed, as if they were settling down to watch a Broadway production instead of an outdoor fashion show. "And when we were coming back I heard a couple people say that Kurt Hummel's gonna be in it! Man, that'll be incredible. I'm not even _gay_ and I still think he's attractive!"

"I heard he's really nice, too," David put in, bobbing his head in agreement. "I've seen a couple interviews with him – he's always talking with fans and stuff. Probably all an act, though."

Blaine said nothing. He sat frozen in his chair, arms folded tightly, focusing on his breathing and desperately trying to stay calm. It was proving impossible. He wished he could just melt into the ground and evaporate.

A man appeared onstage and requested that everyone find their seats; the show would begin momentarily. Blaine tuned him out, doing his best to hide his embarrassment from his friends. He knew if they suspected anything they would badger him until he confessed. And he was _not_ about to tell them that he'd basically just told a world-famous supermodel that runways were pointless.

He straightened up a little when the show began. Models – both male and female – emerged from the back and glided to the end of the runway before pausing to pose for the cameras. They were all tall and painfully thin and dead serious. Still, he was able to appreciate the creativity of Thomas Handson, the featured designer of the night; Blaine'd been a fan of his work ever since he did that tuxedo special last autumn. The gowns the girls wore were bright and intricate and eye-catching, while the men looked exceptionally suave. The theme seemed to be 'a nice night out.' Fancy, but nothing too over-the-top.

And then Kurt emerged, and the audience stirred excitedly.

_Oh. Okay. So this is what everybody keeps talking about…_

He was positively breathtaking. He strode down the runway with the utmost confidence, swiveling his hips with each step in a way that should not have been legal. All eyes were on him. The cashmere sweater he was modeling clung to his skin like paint, the wide neck exposing a delectable amount of skin. Normally horizontal stripes made people look wider, but on him it was nothing but flattering. Every other stripe was black, the others translucent, teasing the audience with pale beige strips of skin all down his torso and arms. The black zipper-covered skinny jeans were just as tantalizingly tight. The look was finished off with polished light brown heeled boots and a transparent black scarf that fluttered behind him like wings.

But it was more than just the outfit that caught everyone's attention and held them. His entire appearance was different. He was tall like the other models, it was true, but his features were softer, not as severe, a youthful spark in his face that made it seem like he was the only one up there actually enjoying himself. And that playful glint in his eyes was not something that could be captured in a photograph.

Blaine finally understood why runways were so important.

The cameras went mad. It was obvious Kurt was the highlight of the show. Blaine suspected that he was the highlight of _any_ show he participated in. He clearly knew it, too, because there was a small smirk on his face as he reached the end of the runway and posed, illuminated by the stage lights and the thousands of camera flashes. Blaine had half a mind to snap a quick shot with his cell phone as well, but he was too numb to move.

"Damn," David muttered over the cheering. "He's like a god or something! He must have girls worshipping the ground he walks on wherever he goes."

Blaine didn't respond. His vocal chords were in knots, his eyes fixated on the stunning young man above him.

And then Kurt's eyes flickered over to him, and his breath caught. He could have sworn Kurt gave a tiny wink before turning and heading back down the runway. The girl after him emerged and began to make her way to the end, a long silk train attached to the back of the light green dress she wore. It was beautiful, but Blaine hardly even noticed. He was still watching Kurt's retreating back.

He _did_ notice her, however, when she stumbled and fell to her knees.

There was a collective gasp of sympathy from the audience. They expected her to pick herself up and carry on, pretend it didn't happen, try not to blush too deeply until she was backstage again. But then Kurt stopped, turned back, and helped her to her feet.

Everyone watched intently – the cameras having a field day, the reporters babbling furiously into their microphones – as Kurt fiddled with something at the back of her dress. In less than five seconds, he'd managed to detach the train from it, and instead pinned it into her hair using one of the hairclips already there. It was now a veil. And more importantly, it no longer dragged on the floor and tangled with her heels.

Kurt muttered something in her ear, flashed the audience another winning smile, and continued on as if nothing had happened.

It was official. Blaine _loved_ fashion shows.


	2. Chapter 2: Backstage

**Chapter 2: Backstage**

After the show, Wes and Blaine and David made their way through the crowd towards the backstage tent. A couple of burly guards stood at the entranceway, regulating who could go in. One of them recognized Wes and David from earlier. David flashed their passes and they were quickly nodded through.

Inside was nothing short of organized chaos. The models, celebrities, and designers all mingled amongst one another, chatting and being interviewed by the limited reporters that'd been granted entrance. The number of faces Blaine could vaguely recognize from the covers of magazines was too large to count. This was without a doubt the most fame-filled room – well, tent – he'd ever been in.

Wes and David dove right in, but Blaine skirted the edges, merely observing, trying to avoid the large video cameras balanced on broad shoulders.

"–and Kurt is just such a sweetie," Blaine heard one girl gush to an interviewer. He recognized her at once as the model who'd stumbled. "It wasn't surprising, what he did. He's always so helpful. _And_ talented! It was an honor to work with him. I just wish I hadn't made such a fool out of myself in front of him!" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "But seriously, I've never met anybody as down-to-earth and friendly as Kurt. He never lets his fame and success get to his head or anything. When I met him for the first time yesterday I told him how much I admired him and he just laughed and told me that he liked my scarf. I almost passed out."

And then, suddenly, Kurt was there at her shoulder. He had changed back into his red pants, although the long coat was now missing, revealing a silky turquoise button-up and silver vest. His hair was styled into a neat mess with the perfect amount of hairspray. In a way, he looked even more attractive like this. More natural.

"Please, Gretchen, you'll make me blush," he teased, pretending to get flustered.

The reporters spotted Kurt and immediately clustered forward, shouting out questions, shoving mics in his face, blinding him with camera flashes. He just smiled around at them. He didn't seem to be particularly enjoying the attention. He was…tolerating it.

"Mr. Hummel, what made you decide to help Gretchen Greenfield after her fall?" one particularly loud reporter called.

Kurt pinned him with a cool gaze. "And why _wouldn't_ I help her out?" he asked in return, as if pulling Gretchen to her feet had been the only real option in the first place. "Everybody makes mistakes. It's human nature."

Another burst of noise. "Why did you change the dress?" another interviewer shouted out to him from the back.

"Because if I left it as it was, Gretchen might have fallen again and twisted her ankle or something. I mean, don't get me wrong, that dress is positively _stunning_, and she looked gorgeous in it, but safety should always come first."

"Mr. Handson says that your on-the-spot alteration was 'pure genius.' What do you say to that?" a short woman near the front inquired.

He chuckled. "Well, that's very nice of him to say. I greatly admire his work. It's good to know he doesn't hate me for changing one of his designs mid-runway…"

"Kurt, how did you hear about this show?"

"Kurt, what was your favorite outfit of the night?"

"Kurt, who's your favorite designer?"

And so it went on.

Soon, Mike came over and ended the interrogations, announcing that they could request one-on-one interviews with Kurt later in the evening, but for now they were to leave him alone.

Kurt caught Blaine's eye, and there it was – that tiny, almost unnoticeable wink. He sidled up to Blaine, a partially-hidden smirk on his angelic face. Blaine couldn't hold back his own smile at the sight.

"I didn't expect to see _you_ back here," said Kurt. "Are you sure you won't be bored to tears, surrounded by all these runway models?"

Blaine bowed his head, ashamed. "I– I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't– I mean, I wasn't– When I said–"

Kurt snickered. "Relax, I'm not mad at you. Everyone's entitled to their own opinions. I don't hate people when they don't have the same ones as me."

"Still, I shouldn't have– If I'd known who you were I wouldn't have said all that stuff about–"

"Wait, wait, hold up." Kurt raised a hand to stop his babbling. He looked surprised, but in a good way. "You seriously didn't recognize me?"

"I– No," the shorter man confessed. "I mean, I never _dreamed_ of ever coming face-to-face with you, or talking to you. I didn't even know you'd be here tonight. And besides, you look so different offstage! More...I don't know, _casual_."

Kurt repressed another laugh. "Yes, people tend to do that. It's not like I stroll through Central Park in a sequined top hat and coattails…"

"Blaine, there you are," David materialized by his side, clutching his elbow. "Have you seen Wes? I lost him. I think he was trying to hit on a couple of the mod– Oh!" He finally noticed Kurt. He practically shrank in on himself. "Y-You're Kurt Hummel!"

Kurt put on that signature smile of his. "Last time I checked that was my name, yes."

"You're– I mean– Wow!" David breathed. He looked like he'd just discovered the cure to cancer. "That was really nice. What you did tonight, I mean. With that Gretchen girl and all."

"Thank you."

Wes squeezed between David and Blaine, breathing a little hard. "It's crazy up in here!" he said cheerfully. Then he glanced at Kurt and a dumbstruck look came over his face. Blaine wondered if this was always the kind of reaction Kurt got.

"Wes, dude, this is Kurt Hummel," David hissed unnecessarily.

Wes smacked him. "I _know_, you idiot, everyone knows that."

Kurt smirked. "Blaine didn't."

Blaine's friends turned to gape at him. He ducked his head and avoided their gazes, feeling his face heat up with embarrassment. Kurt just smiled though, clearly not offended in the least.

"Oh, just ignore him." Wes waved his hand in front of his face as if to blow away the mere thought of Blaine. "He doesn't like this stuff. He would recognize the Queen of England's _dress_ before he recognized her herself."

A jolt of pain went through Blaine's chest. He tried not to show how offended he was by Wes' words.

Kurt's face hardened a little when he caught Blaine's expression, however, so perhaps his offense did show after all. "Actually, I quite enjoyed chatting with Mr. Anderson here," he said, a bit more curt than before. "It's quite refreshing, talking to someone who isn't afraid to voice his opinions. Now, if you'll excuse us, I was just about to introduce Blaine to Mr. Handson."

Blaine's eyes bugged. "Seriously?" he gasped, all thoughts of his friend's rudeness forgotten at once.

Kurt smiled softly. "Seriously. Come on." He took Blaine's hand and led him away through the crowd, dodging reporters, smiling politely and nodding to people who called out to him, unaware of how fast Blaine's heart was racing. He tried to tell himself it was the nerves from meeting such a well-respected fashion designer, but he knew it really had everything to do with the contact between them. Kurt's hand was warm, firm, and extremely smooth. He never wanted to let go. _Do all models have such soft skin?_

"I'm assuming you know of Thomas?" Kurt guessed.

"Uh, _yeah_," he laughed. "He's only one of the greatest designers in the country!"

Kurt approached a middle-aged man near a back corner of the tent, chatting with a couple of the female models. As soon as Kurt caught their eye, they quickly said their farewells and scurried away. If Kurt Hummel wanted to talk to someone, he got to talk to them. No arguments.

"Mr. Hummel!" Mr. Handson hailed jovially. Kurt dropped Blaine's hand to shake the older man's. "You were wonderful up there tonight, m'dear, simply marvelous! Not that it comes as a surprise, of course – No, no, you're always lovely to have as a model."

"You're too kind," Kurt grinned. "But thank you. I'm always more than happy to wear such fabulous clothing as yours."

"And that switch you made, on Ms. Gretchen's gown. Brilliant!"

Kurt beamed. He gestured for Blaine to step forward. "This is Blaine Anderson. He's a huge fan of yours."

"Pleasure," the older man smiled, extending a hand. Blaine was certain his right hand would never be the same after touching two such famous people in the same night.

"It's an honor to meet you, sir." He was very relieved when his voice didn't waver. "I loved your tuxedo line last fall. Truly ingenious."

Mr. Handson laughed. "Well thank you, m'boy! Glad you liked them. I always wished Mr. Hummel had been available at the time for that photoshoot…Are you a model as well?"

A startled laugh bubbled out of him before he could stop it. "I– Oh, no, of course not, I couldn't– I'm nowhere near as attractive as– as professional models." He'd wanted to say 'as Kurt' but was afraid that would just make things uncomfortable.

Kurt gently nudged his shoulder with his own. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"Yes," Mr. Handson agreed. "Not everybody can be as absurdly beautiful as Mr. Hummel here."

Kurt chuckled and shook his head. "I'm only as beautiful as the clothing you put me in, Thomas."

"Oh, _you_. Always so modest."

A reporter approached them then for an interview with Mr. Handson, and the man from before – Mike, was it? – came over as well.

"Kurt, you have a photoshoot tomorrow morning with _Teen Magazine_," he reminded, touching his elbow. "You'll need your rest. I suggest doing two more interviews and then heading home for some sleep."

"Yes, _mom_." Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine, who laughed quietly.

"Don't you take that tone with me, young man," Mike scolded, playing along.

Kurt turned to Blaine. "It was lovely to meet you, Blaine Anderson. I hope we run into each other again someday."

"Same here," he nodded.

Kurt sent him a final little wink over his shoulder before disappearing into the sea of microphones and cameras and fame.


	3. Chapter 3: Sabrina's

**Chapter 3: Sabrina's**

Blaine never would have guessed that he'd run into Kurt again so soon after their first meeting. In fact, he'd sort of assumed they would never see each other again, and that Kurt would soon forget about him.

Not that he minded, of course. Being wrong.

It was the Monday following the fashion show. Blaine had gone to Sabrina's, the local coffee shop he'd frequented ever since he moved into his new apartment. All the baristas knew him and his order (a medium drip and biscotti). The girl behind the counter that morning, Georgia, grinned when she spotted him come in and began to make his drink before he'd even made it to the cash register.

"Early start today," she observed, handing over his coffee.

"One of my students has a concert this weekend and I promised to give her some extra lessons," he nodded. "Gotta pay the rent somehow."

She scoffed, grabbing his biscotti from the display. "Oh please, I know how much your sessions cost. You're one of the most sought-after musical coaches in all of New York."

"No, I'm really not," he insisted, chuckling. "It's just that Marin really wants to do well at this concert. College scouts are going to be there."

Georgia smirked and handed over the biscotti in a paper bag. "You're just too helpful for your own good."

"Well, I certainly don't think there's anything wrong with that."

Blaine watched Georgia's jaw drop and her eyes widen. The voice behind him was unnervingly familiar. _But…No way. There's no way. _When he finally turned his head, though, he was met with the enrapturing sight of Kurt Hummel, bundled up in a sleek black fur coat. There was silent laughter in those gorgeous eyes of his. Kurt flashed him a smile before returning his attention to the barista.

"N-No!" Georgia squeaked out. "Not– Not at all! It's great! It's wonderful! It's–"

"Georgia, hon, just let him order." Blaine attempted to hide his amusement. She was more flustered than he'd ever seen her before. Although, to be fair, she wasn't the only one. It seemed that the majority of the other customers had broken into fervent whispering or else had pulled out their cell phones to sneak pictures of Kurt or inform their friends of his unexpected appearance._ The life of a celebrity, I guess._

"I– I'm sorry, I'm a huge fan," Georgia breathed.

"You should never apologize for being a fan," Kurt assured graciously. Then, after studying the board for a moment, he turned to Blaine and said, "What should I get?"

Blaine made sure to swallow his mouthful of coffee before answering. "Um, I don't know, it depends what you like I guess. Their mochas are pretty popular, I think…"

Kurt nodded thoughtfully. "I'll have a grande nonfat mocha, hold the whip. And a lemon scone, please."

"R-Right," Georgia stuttered. She scurried to make his drink. Blaine considered leaving, but then Kurt turned back to him.

"Do you come here often?"

Blaine nodded, hoping he didn't have the same obnoxious starstruck look everyone else seemed to get upon meeting Kurt. "Almost every morning, actually. Been coming here for over a year now." He tilted his head to the side and added, "Why are _you_ here, though?"

Kurt raised an eyebrow.

"I meant– Sorry, that came out wrong," he stuttered. "It's just– I wouldn't have expected someone as famous as you to come to such a hole-in-the-wall kind of place as this."

Kurt grinned to show that he was not actually offended. "Believe it or not, I'm not a total snob. At least, I try not to be. I've hung around far too many shallow, fame-obsessed celebrities who spend all their time trying to get into the headlines. It's completely egotistical, and honestly I don't want to have anything to do with it. So I try to lead as much of a 'normal' life as I can. Mike – my P.A. – thinks I'm crazy. It's an ongoing battle."

"H-Here you go!" Georgia passed over Kurt's mocha and scone with trembling fingers. Kurt took them and graced her with that patented smile. "That'll be, um, four ninety-nine."

He handed over a ten. "Keep the change." That smile again. She looked about ready to faint. Then Kurt turned to Blaine, said "I'm sure I'll see you again sometime," and floated out of the coffee shop, politely ignoring all the cell phone cameras and eyes on him. One girl near the back squealed and knocked over her coffee. Georgia was still too dazed to go clean it up.

Blaine almost made it to the door by the time Georgia found her voice again. "Blaine, wait! Did you two– It seemed like you guys–"

"We met a few days ago, yeah."

And before she could bombard him with questions, he too exited the cafe into the cold autumn morning.

…

That evening, when Blaine arrived back at his one-bedroom apartment, he did a bit of research. He tried not to feel like a complete stalker as he typed 'Kurt Hummel' into his Google search, but really, what else could he call it? Celebrity Education?

He ended up spending hours scrolling through articles and interviews and pictures of the "Modern Adonis," as Kurt was known by the media. In every photograph, whether taken during a professional photoshoot or snapped on a cell phone, he was effortlessly beautiful, nearly always smiling. But what really captured Blaine's attention was how genuinely modest he seemed to be. He was humble and bashful with every compliment, repeatedly crediting someone else – the designer, the hair stylist, the cameraman, his parents, everybody except himself. It would have seemed like an act if it weren't for the obvious sincerity in his eyes.

Another thing Blaine noticed after a while was a distinct lack of any scandals surrounding the supermodel. There were no wild parties or hook-ups or law-breaking to be heard of. Of course it was possible that his personal assistant did a good job of covering it all up, but somehow Blaine doubted that. There just wasn't anything to hide in the first place.

"Jesus, don't you have _any_ flaws?" he mumbled to his computer screen as the small clock on his wall ticked and tocked the night away.

…

Blaine was eager to get to Sabrina's the next day, hopeful that Kurt would make another appearance, but sadly he was a no-show. He didn't come the day after that either, or the day after that, or the day after that. Blaine eventually accepted that the model had moved on. He tried his best not to let it get to him.

But then he appeared again. Blaine's heartbeat sped up at the sight of Kurt drifting into the coffee shop with snowflakes in his hair and frost-pinched cheeks, and even though he'd seen him only a week ago, Blaine was sure that Kurt had somehow gotten even more handsome.

"This seat taken?" Kurt asked after he'd gotten a nonfat mocha, gesturing to the empty chair opposite Blaine.

He shook his head. "No, feel free."

Kurt slipped into the seat gracefully, as if his limbs were made of water. Blaine could hear the murmurings around them. There were plenty of empty tables; why would this famous model be sitting down with Blaine Anderson? Kurt ignored it, though, pretending not to realize that he was the focus of the entire cafe. He probably received this type of treatment wherever he went. It made Blaine wonder if he ever got sick of it.

"What've you been up to lately?" he inquired lightly. _Good. Simple conversation. Nothing too deep or personal. Just don't bring up the weather, whatever you do._

"Busy," Kurt sighed. "Mike booked me a show in Milan last-second so I had to jump on a plane as quickly as possible so that they could try to get all the outfits re-tailored to fit me in time. Apparently the guy they'd originally had got arrested for drug possession. Anyway, since I was in Italy anyway Mike wanted me to meet a few people, go to a few parties, that kind of thing. I only just got back last night, and there's a charity event this evening Mike already confirmed I'd be attending, and sometime between now and then I have to go visit my friend Quinn because she broke her arm two days ago and I promised I'd sign her cast." He took a deep breath and slumped down in his seat.

"How are you even _awake_ right now?" Blaine wondered aloud.

Kurt lifted up his coffee cup and chuckled lightly. "Caffeine is my best friend."

"Are you always this busy?"

"No, not usually," he confessed, taking a sip of his mocha and sitting up straighter again, probably remembering that there were still other people around watching him like an exotic animal in the zoo. "This week's just been particularly jam-packed. I told Mike flat out that he had to set aside some time next week for me to just _rest_."

"Sounds like you definitely deserve it," Blaine nodded.

"Enough about me, though," Kurt decided. "I'm sure you don't want to listen to the whining of a little prissy supermodel. What have _you_ been up to? Besides haunting this place."

Blaine kicked him playfully under the table and grinned when he laughed. "Just working," he shrugged.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a music teacher. Both instrumental and vocal."

"Really?" Kurt looked genuinely interested. He leaned forward a bit. "That's really cool! You sing? What instruments do you play?"

"I sing, yeah. And I play guitar, piano, violin, cello, drums…"

Kurt's jaw dropped. "Jesus! That's- Wow! That's really incredible!"

"It's nothing, really," Blaine insisted, ducking his head to hide his blush. It was so surreal to have somebody like Kurt Hummel compliment him. "I just really like performing."

"I didn't realize you were so artistic. Do you have a studio around here?"

"Yeah, it's actually only a few blocks away," he said, gesturing in the vague direction of his workplace. "My students sometimes just come over when they know I'm there to use the practice rooms."

Kurt beamed warmly across the table at him. "That's really cool. I'll have to swing by sometime, see how good you are," he joked. "That is, if you don't mind me coming in…"

"No, not at all!" he quickly assured. He pulled out a business card and handed it over. Kurt studied it for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he read it over again; he seemed to be trying to remember something. Then it clicked.

"Blaine Anderson? _The_ Blaine Anderson?"

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "You know me?"

"I've heard of you, yeah!" Kurt said excitedly, waving the little card around. "You teach that young girl, Marin, right? I met her when I was visiting a few local high schools for their Career Days! Oh, she was the sweetest thing. Told me all about how _kind_ and _patient_ and _talented_ her violin teacher is, and how he's inspired her to pursue music professionally. And one of my best friends, Rachel Berry, I think she used to take vocal lessons from you a while back, just before she got her big break on Broadway…"

Blaine's jaw hit the table.

"Y-You know- You've met Marin?" he spluttered. He took a second to pull himself together again, practically inhaling a large mouthful of his coffee. "Wow, small world, huh? I had no idea Marin knew you. And I remember Rachel very distinctly. She's, um…not easily forgettable."

Kurt laughed. "No, that she most certainly is not." Something in his pocket chimed. "Oh, damn," he muttered, pulling out his phone. He sighed heavily. "I should get going. I still need to visit Quinn and get in a couple hours of sleep before the charity event, or else I'll fall asleep in the middle of dinner, and that would just be plain rude. And messy."

Blaine snorted into his coffee cup. "Yeah, that would probably make headlines! Kurt Hummel: Suspected Narcoleptic."

Kurt laughed as well and got to his feet. "I'll see you around, Blaine."

There was that now-familiar little wink, a smile, and he was gone.


	4. Chapter 4: Visit

**Chapter 4: Visit**

"Blaine! Come on, spill!"

"No."

"Come _on_."

"Let go."

"Pretty please? I'll buy you ice cream!"

"It's _winter_, Wes!"

Blaine glared at his two best friends, who were both hounding him for details on Kurt Hummel, as if talking with him a couple times suddenly made them confidants. Blaine had reluctantly told them about how Kurt came up to talk to him before the show – which made them laugh and scold him – and about their run-ins at Sabrina's. They were now under the (false) impression that Blaine knew all of Kurt's dirty secrets.

"Guys, just lay off, alright?" Blaine sighed, pulling his arm from David's clutches. "We just chatted for a little bit. Nothing really important ever came up. He talked about all the events he has to go to and I talked about my studio. He said he'd swing by sometime, but he's really busy so I don't think–"

"Whoa, wait, stop! Rewind!" Wes yanked on his elbow. "He said he'd come by the studio? _Kurt Hummel_ said he'd come by _your_ studio?"

"Yes?"

"Dude!" Wes and David high-fived over Blaine's head. "Nicely done! Some musicians would _kill_ to have Kurt Hummel 'swing by' their studio. Jesus, Blaine, you're, like, the luckiest dude in America and you don't even realize it."

"And once again, you're making me question your sexuality," Blaine muttered.

David sighed dramatically. "Look, you can be as opaque as you please, but just make sure when he comes to the studio you text us."

"Why?"

"So that we can come visit you at the same time!" Wes said, as if that was completely obvious. "Then we'll oh-so-coincidentally run into him there and ask for autographs! We never got any after the fashion show…"

Blaine rolled his eyes and stalked off, leaving the two of them grinning like idiots on the crowded street corner.

…

Blaine was not particularly bothered when he didn't see Kurt again for nearly two weeks. Or at least, that's what he told himself. He knew how busy the celebrity's days were, and had no doubt that he spent the majority of his free time trying desperately to get some much-needed rest. He hoped so, anyway. He didn't want Kurt to overwork himself. He seemed like the type to stretch himself too thin, let his schedule get too cluttered.

Still, that didn't mean seeing him again didn't give him butterflies and make him smile like a toddler with a new toy.

"I'll see you again tomorrow," he said to Joey, one of his younger guitar students. Their lesson had just ended, and Blaine was dying to get some lunch delivered before his next appointment at two. _Should I go Chinese or Italian today?_

"Bye-bye, Mr. Anderson!" The little boy waved enthusiastically, jogging towards the door. "Sorry, sir," he added when he nearly smashed into the tall, willowy young man that had just walked in. Blaine was about to call after him and warn him to be careful with his guitar, but then he recognized the new arrival and the words died on his tongue.

"So _this_ is the famous Blaine Anderson's studio," Kurt said playfully, looking around at the colorful workplace. The bottom level was filled with instruments and plush couches and chairs, the shelves stuffed with music sheets, the walls covered in swirling hues and irregular shapes that played with the eyes a bit. The second floor was nothing but individual soundproof rooms, used for solo practice. A couple of Blaine's regulars were up there now, but he could not hear them at all. It was as if they didn't exist.

"I'm not famous," he denied at once, eyes raised to the ceiling in mock-exasperation. But his grin ruined the effect. "Glad you could make it."

"This isn't a bad time, is it?"

Blaine's smile just widened. "Not at all. Perfect, actually; I just finished up with Joey, and my next student isn't set to arrive for another hour or so."

Kurt nodded, glancing around again. "Is this where you spend most of your time?"

"How'd you guess?" he chuckled. He led Kurt to one of the over-stuffed beige couches and sat down, their knees only an inch apart as they turned to face one another. "I think I probably actually spend more time here than I do at my apartment, to be honest."

"Must be nice, though," Kurt mused. "Having somewhere to come back to so often."

Blaine frowned. "Don't you?"

"Well, I mean, I have an apartment, yes, but I'm not there _nearly_ as much as I want to be," he confessed, running a hand carefully over his hair, as if he could tell just from the feel of the very tips if it was out of place. Which it wasn't. "I'm always working or out of town or at a show or visiting a friend…Somedays I just want to stay at home and lounge around in my pajamas and veg out like a _bum_, y'know?"

Blaine burst into laughter.

"What?" Kurt demanded, smiling in confusion.

"It's just- That's the last thing I'd expect to hear coming from a world-renowned supermodel," Blaine got out, brushing tears of mirth from his eyes.

Kurt's smile remained. "I'm only human! I'm sure even the President has days like that."

"Oh, I have no doubt," Blaine agreed, finally calming down. "It's just nice to be reminded how normal you are. The media makes you out to be this superhuman entity that has no faults and never has a bad day. Glad to know you're still relatively ordinary," he winked.

Kurt nudged Blaine's ankle with the toe of his boot. "I hate it when they do that," he admitted in a quiet voice. "I'm just like everybody else – I get crabby when I don't eat and I hate doing jury duty and I'm allergic to shrimp and I watch Disney movies when I'm sick. I'm just a regular guy."

"A regular guy who just so happens to have _incredibly_ good looks and sociability," Blaine corrected, but he tapped Kurt's foot with his own to show that he was just playing around. Kurt smiled reluctantly and returned the gesture. It was an odd form of footsie, really. "But yeah, that sounds pretty frustrating."

Kurt frowned a bit. "Look at me, moaning and complaining again! You must think I'm so self-centered. All I do around you is rant about my life."

"No!" Blaine promised, hand falling on Kurt's knee as he leaned a little bit closer. "No, Kurt, I don't think that at all. I think–" He cut himself off, though, afraid of saying too much, of coming on too strong. He wasn't even positive Kurt played for his team, after all. And even if he did, he was _way_ too far out of his league. He removed his hand. "I- I mean…No. Don't worry. You're not self-centered. Not at all. Everybody has the right to complain every now and then. I can't even tell you how many times I've babbled on and on about cranky parents and stubborn students to my friends."

Kurt smiled, looking relieved. There was a moment's pause, before he murmured, "You know, there's this lovely French restaurant about ten minutes away…I was actually on my way there when I remembered that your studio was nearby and decided to drop in. If you've got some free time…"

Blaine felt heat pool in his cheeks. "Y-You mean, go to lunch with you?" He cursed himself for stuttering. _It's not a date. Kurt never said 'date.' It's just lunch. Don't look into it too much._

Kurt seemed to color a bit, too. It looked way better on him. "Only if you want to, of course. I totally understand if you're too busy. I did just kind of pop in on you unannounced."

"I'd love to!" Blaine blurted.

Kurt blinked at him for a second before breaking into a wide smile. "Great! Come on – I'll drive."

Blaine grabbed his coat from the rack by the door. "Oh, sorry, one second," he said, before sprinting up the stairs to the second level. "Jasmine?" he called, knocking on the first door on the left.

It flew open. "Yeah, Mr. Anderson?"

"Can you man the studio for the next hour or so?"

She cocked her hip and crossed her arms, eyebrow raised. "I can _woman_ the studio, sure."

He laughed. "Thanks. Be back soon!"

"Where are you going?" she called after him as he ran back down to meet Kurt by the door. Then she noticed the model and gasped. "Oh my god! You're–"

"Leaving," Blaine cut in pointedly, steering Kurt outside and sending a parting wave in Jasmine's direction before closing the door behind him. The day was gray and cloudy; a storm was imminent. "Sorry about that. Guess she's a fan, too."

"It's okay, I get that a lot. Remind me to tell you about the woman in the Walmart sometime," Kurt said, pulling out a car key and hitting the unlock button. The large, sleek black Navigator before them beeped. Blaine knew just enough about cars to admire it, although he was more-so impressed that Kurt could actually drive such a large car in the city. "Get in. It's pretty chilly."

"R-Right." He opened the passenger door and slid in, immediately marveling at the buttery leather interior. A silver thermos sat in one of the cup-holders smelling distinctly of coffee, pink fuzzy die dangled from the rearview mirror, and a large collection of CDs occupied the pull-down shelf by his knees.

"You don't mind if I play music, do you?" Kurt asked, starting the car.

"Of course not. Music's my _life_," he reminded. Kurt smiled and hit a button. Instantly, Lady Gaga's latest hit came over the surround-sound, filling the car as Kurt expertly pulled out into the typical New York City traffic. "Do you usually drive yourself? Or do you have a chauffeur or something?"

Kurt snorted. "And once again, your misconception of me comes through." But before Blaine could start apologizing, he quickly went on, "Don't worry, I'm well aware I don't conform to the stereotypes of celebrities. Now, I don't have a chauffeur. I prefer to drive myself, even though traffic is always horrendous, and if it's possible to walk to where I need to get to, I'll walk. I used to use the subway a lot more, but lately I've only been allowed to use it when Mike assigns me body guards, and I try to avoid using them unless deemed absolutely necessary."

"You hate it?" Blaine guessed.

"I- I wish I could do more things by myself," Kurt allowed, making a right turn. "When people do things like drive me places I feel pathetic, like I'm not _capable_ of even the most basic things, like getting from point A to point B."

Blaine took a moment before responding. "You truly are one in a million," he murmured. Kurt glanced over at him. "Most people would _kill_ to have the luxuries you have at your disposal, but you don't even want them." He laughed, almost to himself. "Talk about breaking the norms."

Kurt smirked. "I've been breaking the norms since I was three."

"What happened when you were three?"

"The only thing I asked for for my birthday was a sensible pair of heels."

Blaine's expression was torn between confusion and amusement. "Did you get what you asked for?"

Kurt nodded. "My dad was against it, but my mother shot him down and took me shopping. I went to preschool the next day in the most fashionable pair of pink cowboy boots known to woman or man."

Blaine couldn't hold it in any longer. He burst into laughter, nearly hitting the dashboard as he bent double, arms clutching his sides, unable to stifle the cackling as he pictured a three-year-old Kurt Hummel strutting into preschool in pink boots. He could almost feel himself falling for this guy with every new detail he learned about him. He knew it was dangerous, to fall for a celebrity, but he didn't think he could turn back at this point anyway.

When he finally managed to control himself again, there were tears in his eyes. Kurt was grinning as well.

"I'm glad I'm so amusing."

"Oh god, I'm sorry," Blaine wheezed, wiping his eyes and trying to compose himself. "I wasn't laughing _at_ you, I promise."

"Sure, sure," Kurt teased. He snuck into a parking spot and cut the engine. "The restaurant's just a block up. We can walk. Let's go." He got out, and Blaine followed him. Automatically, Kurt slipped a pair of sunglasses over his eyes, even though the skies were gray and there was hardly any sunlight to shield himself from. Blaine was about to comment, but then he realized that it was not for eye protection; it was to avoid recognition. Kurt even pulled up his hood and rested it delicately over his perfect hair.

"How likely is it that you'll be recognized?" Blaine wondered.

"Oh, it varies," Kurt mused, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket as they walked briskly down the sidewalk. "Some days I'm basically _swarmed_, other days I go completely unnoticed."

"And you like it better when you're unnoticed."

"Yes." Kurt turned to him and added, "Well, okay, no, not exactly. I love meeting fans. What I hate is being _fawned_ over. I mean, it's very flattering, of course, and it's nice to meet the people that look up to you, but–"

"But you feel like you're creating a false reality for them," Blaine finished for him. "Because you're just a regular guy, and yet they believe that you're a god or something. The 'Modern Adonis' and all that."

Kurt's lips parted in surprise. "Yes. Yes, _exactly_. That's exactly it!" He beamed down at him. "Wow…"

Blaine scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. "I'm just a good listener," he shrugged, secretly very pleased to be the reason Kurt's face lit up the way it did. "Just…rephrasing what you've already told me."

"You have a way with words, Blaine Anderson," Kurt grinned, nudging his shoulder playfully. "I bet you write your own songs, too, huh?"

"Sometimes, yeah," he admitted.

"Thought so. Here it is," he added, steering Blaine gently to the side as they reached their destination. The light touch on his upper arm gave Blaine butterflies in his stomach. It suddenly struck him – he was going to have lunch with Kurt Hummel. With _the_ Kurt Hummel. Most fans would be hyperventilating around now, because how many people could say they actually sat down across from the world-famous supermodel and shared a meal and had a legitimate conversation with him? Not many, he was willing to bet.

But he knew, deep down, that his nerves did not stem from Kurt's fame. They stemmed from the growing feelings he felt towards him. Feelings that he knew he shouldn't be having, because the likelihood of them ever being returned was almost nonexistent, and the probability of having his heart crushed was insurmountable.

And yet he still smiled dopily when he opened the door for Kurt and was flashed that familiar little wink in return.


	5. Chapter 5: Start of Something

**Chapter 5: Start of Something**

Lunch was incredible. The food was delectable, the conversation flowed with ease, and Blaine could not honestly remember the last time he'd laughed so much. Kurt was extraordinary company to keep. He was thoughtful, passionate, and open-minded. They talked about all sorts of things, from same-sex marriage – during which Blaine got confirmation that Kurt was indeed gay – to global warming to Gucci's new line of sunglasses.

"I suppose we should be heading back," Kurt mused, flagging down the waiter. Blaine liked to think that he sounded just as regretful as Blaine felt. When he moved to pull out his wallet, Kurt leaned across the table and grabbed his wrist. "No, please, let me."

"Oh, no, it's alright, I'll pay–" he tried to insist.

Kurt was stubborn, though. "_I_ asked _you_; I'll pay. You can pay next time if you really want."

Blaine nodded dazedly. _Next time. He wants there to be a next time. That means more than one time. Multiple times. Oh god._

He was all but floating as they exited the restaurant. A faint, misty drizzle was falling. Kurt frowned up at the sky, briefly slipping off his shades to wipe the lenses clear of water. "This is going to destroy my hair," he muttered.

Blaine chuckled. "You look fine. Don't worry about it. You could probably go _bald_ and still look incredible."

Kurt mock-gasped. "Oh god, thank you for _those_ nightmares!" They both laughed.

When he dropped Blaine back off at his studio, Kurt reached over and caught Blaine's arm before he could slide out. Blaine glanced back expectantly. Kurt looked a little nervous. He bit his lower lip. It was adorable.

"Can I- Do you think I could call you? Sometime?"

Blaine's face nearly split in two from the force of his smile. "I'd love that. Here, give me your phone." Kurt quickly handed over the latest iPhone with a red Lady Gaga cover. Blaine raised a teasing eyebrow but said nothing as he entered his number and passed it back. Then, working up his nerve, he asked, "Are you free tomorrow, by any chance?"

Kurt quickly checked the calendar on his phone. "Nothing until noon," he shrugged. "Why?"

"Would you like to go to coffee? At Sabrina's?"

Kurt beamed. "That sounds lovely."

Blaine was sure that his own smile looked ridiculous, but he couldn't manage to mask it. "Great!"

Only seconds after he'd retreated into his studio, his phone buzzed, and he retrieved it eagerly from his pocket to find a text from an unknown number.

**See you at 9?**

He sent a quick text of confirmation back before saving the number to his contact list. He gazed at the name for a moment. He was one of the lucky few trusted with Kurt Hummel's personal phone number. It was surreal. What was it about _him_ that granted him such an honor? He was just some music teacher. What would the Modern Adonis ever want to do with the likes of him?

"Mr. Anderson?"

He blinked and focused on the girl standing before him, hands on her hips, a smug look on her face. "Oh, yes?"

Jasmine smirked. "You've got a crush, sir."

He blushed. "I- What? No. I don't know what you're talking about. Don't be silly. Um, I'm just gonna…" He gesticulated haphazardly towards the stairs and drifted towards them without any purpose in mind, ignoring the young girl's gaze. He knew very well that she was right. He fancied Kurt, that much was a definite, but he also understood that Kurt was not just some random gay guy in New York. He was world-famous, constantly in the spotlight, the most sweet, generous, morally and physically _beautiful_ young man he had ever encountered, and he considered himself lucky just to have said two words to him. Now they were making plans, exchanging phone numbers…It was even more than a dream come true.

…

Blaine arrived at Sabrina's the next morning fifteen minutes too early. Tony waved excitedly form behind the counter when he saw who had arrived. Blaine laughed internally when he imagined how Tony would react to Kurt's arrival.

"Blaine, my man!" Tony hailed, holding up a fist, and Blaine bumped it with his own. "How've you been hangin', bro? Haven't seen you in a while. Been busy?"

"Always," Blaine said. Tony went about making Blaine's regular. He noticed a new tattoo on Tony's shoulder of a shark. His coffee and biscotti were handed over and wrung up, and he paid. "Thanks."

"So what's new with you, man?" Tony pressed, leaning on the counter. Blaine glanced over his shoulder. There was nobody else in line, and he _was_ early after all, so he supposed it wouldn't hurt to stay and chat for a little bit. Tony was a nice enough guy – not too bright, but very relaxed and open. Perhaps _too_ open. His brain-to-mouth filter was pretty much nonexistent.

"Nothing much," he shrugged.

"Work, work, and more work?" Tony teased.

Blaine laughed. "Pretty much. Although I did go to a fashion show a few weeks ago with a couple friends."

Tony pretended to swoon from the shock. "_You_? Doing something _fun_? It's the apocalypse!"

Blaine scoffed. He wasn't offended; he knew he had a reputation for doing little else besides music. "Yes! And I had a really good time, I'll have you know."

"Meet anyone famous?"

Blaine practically smirked at that. "Oh, y'know, Thomas Handson, Gretchen Greenfield, Kurt Hummel…"

"You met Kurt Hummel?" Tony nearly upended a display case of Danish pastries. "_Dude_. That's so awesome! What was he like?"

"He's coming here, actually." Blaine was rewarded with a dropped jaw and cartoonishly large eyes. It was humorous to see others' reactions to the supermodel. He wondered if he was the only one to not turn into a bumbling idiot upon first meeting him. _That's just because you didn't know who it was_, he reminded himself. _Idiot._

"He–" Tony blinked, closed his mouth, tried again. "Kurt Hummel's coming _here_? To Sabrina's?"

"He's been here a couple times before," Blaine informed him offhandedly. When Tony did not look like he would be capable of speech anytime soon, he continued, "He's coming to meet me."

Tony floundered for a moment more. "You? You mean- Is this a- Are you two–?"

The bell above the door jingled, and in swept Kurt, confident as ever, head held high as if he owned the place, looking striking in black skinny jeans, a cream button-up shirt, and a heavy blood-red overcoat. He smiled when he spotted Blaine, and Blaine could have sworn the room got a little brighter. He grinned back. Kurt strode over to the counter, but frowned when he caught Tony's dumbstruck expression. "Oh dear, is this a bad time?"

Blaine laughed. "It's fine. He'll snap out of it in a second. Tony. Tony!" The tattooed man jerked. "Get him a grande nonfat mocha, no whip."

"R-Right away!" He all but fell over himself to fulfill the order. Kurt looked pleasantly surprised.

"You know my coffee order?"

Blaine blushed. "Yeah…Sorry, is that weird?"

Kurt shook his head. "No, no, I'm flattered, actually. Not many people would remember something like that. It took Mike over a _month_ to remember it! I was about ready to toss the next latte he brought me in his face."

"Y-Your drink, Mr. Hummel," Tony stuttered, handing over the drink. "Um, do you think I could get an autograph?"

Kurt smiled and grabbed an empty coffee cup. Stealing the Sharpie out of Tony's limp hand, he scrawled his name across the side. "Here you go."

"Thanks, dude!"

Kurt laughed as Blaine led him to an unoccupied table near the back, secluded from the rest of the patrons, many of whom watched Kurt pass with interest. "He reminds me a bit of my brother."

"I didn't know you had a brother."

Kurt nodded. "Well, step-brother, to be precise. His mother married my father when we were both juniors in high school."

"What's his name?"

"Finn. Finn Hudson. Otherwise known as Rachel Berry's boyfriend."

Blaine took a swig of his coffee and prayed he didn't choke on it. "Oh, is that how you two met?"

"No," revealed Kurt, "Rachel actually went to school with us, back in Ohio. She and I roomed together for our first year of college. But then I was 'discovered'" – he used finger quotes and rolled his eyes – "and she got her big break on Broadway a little after that, so we just sort of…drifted apart. I mean, don't get me wrong, we still talk and visit each other, but…"

"But you both lead very busy lives now and your conflicting schedules don't always match up," Blaine concluded for him easily. "Makes sense. Small world though, huh?"

Kurt's smile was blinding; it looked angelic. "How is it that you're so good as verbalizing my thoughts for me, when we've only spoken a handful of times? You already totally get me."

Blaine shrugged, secretly overjoyed. He took a bite of biscotti. "Like I said yesterday, I'm just a good listener."

"Well, I'm very glad you're a good listener to _me_." Kurt gave that signature little wink and stole one of Blaine's biscotti. Not one of the ones in the brown paper bag, either. The half-eaten one in Blaine's hand. He did his best not to stare as Kurt bit into it, his mind unable to get passed _oh my god my mouth touched that and now his mouth is touching it and it's almost like secondhand kissing I just secondhand kissed Kurt Hummel I think I need to lie down for a bit._ But on the outside, of course, he did his best not to portray his internal combustion.

"So tell me about yourself," Kurt suggested, clearly unaware of what he'd just done to Blaine's puddle of goo he once called a brain. Kurt hooked an arm over the back of his chair. "So far all I really know is that your name is Blaine Anderson, you own a studio, and you're the only person that's talked to me like a regular human being in years."

Blaine flushed and bowed his head in an attempt to hide his silly smile. "Um, there's not much to tell," he confessed. "I grew up in Westerville, Ohio with my parents and older brother, Cooper. I graduated from Columbia and started up my musical tutoring studio right off the bat, and it's been doing pretty good so far. I'm twenty-four, turning twenty-five in February. Chicken noodle soup is my weakness, I go to Broadway shows whenever I've got some free time, and my collection of _Vogue_ magazines is sort of insane. And my favorite flavor of ice cream is pistachio."

Kurt stared at him for a long moment, before bursting into laughter. Blaine followed soon after. "Oh my goodness, I should be writing this stuff down!" Kurt wheezed, wiping his eyes, which were leaking tears of mirth. Blaine was too enamored by how beautiful Kurt looked when he laughed to feel embarrassed.

"You're turn."

"Alright." He took a sip of his mocha, humming thoughtfully as he decided what to say. "Let's see…I don't know, you know so much already. The media likes to release every single minute detail about me, for reasons I simply can't fathom."

"Because people are interested in you," Blaine explained calmly. "They want to get to know you better, even if it's indirectly."

Kurt scoffed, eyes lifting to the ceiling in exasperation. "I'm honestly not that special."

"Oh, I think you are."

Blaine blushed once again, but Kurt's smile just widened, making his eyes sparkle. "Thank you. Okay, let's see…I'm twenty-three, turning twenty-four in May. But you probably already knew that. Um…I attended New York Academy of the Dramatic Arts with the idea of becoming an actor, but in the beginning of my Sophomore year I was recruited by a modeling agency, and it pretty much snowballed from there. A few runway shows here and there, a photoshoot or two, and _boom_. It was terrifying. Suddenly everybody wanted my picture, wanted me to appear at their party…" He idly traced the lip of his cup with his ring finger, obviously uninterested in the story of his own rise to fame. "Mike is my old friend from high school; when I heard that he was working as a P.A., I automatically requested him – practically _demanded_ it – and we've been together ever since." His head jerked up, eye wide. "Oh, no, I mean- We're not–"

Blaine chuckled. "Don't worry, I get what you meant."

Kurt looked relieved. "He's more like my walking calendar, honestly," he continued. "He books all my appointments and makes sure I'm on time for everything and controls the media as best he can. We're really close. And his wife Tina is _so_ sweet – she went to our high school, too, believe it or not."

"Sounds like your high school group pretty much stayed together," Blaine mused.

"Yeah, we kinda did," agreed Kurt, smiling faintly.

Blaine sat up a bit straighter. "Alright, you ready for some more personal questions now?"

Kurt grinned. "Bring it on, Anderson."

"When did you come out?"

"Um…Well, to myself? And to my dad? Sophomore year of high school. And my friends just kind of always knew; it wasn't hard to guess. But since I became a model, I never really…I mean, I'm not back in the closet, but I've never expressly stated it to anybody publicly, and I haven't been in a relationship since college, so I'm sure there are plenty of fans that don't realize, and honestly I'm a little scared of what could happen if the media decides to make it a big deal. I experienced enough hate in high school. I don't want to go through that again." He shuddered.

Blaine nodded in understanding. "So you haven't had a boyfriend since you became a model?"

"I- No, I haven't," Kurt said, looking shy all of a sudden. "I went on a few dates, but they never worked out. And when my career started to really take off, Mike and I agreed that it would be best – at least at first – to sort of keep my sexuality on the down-low, in case homophobes decided to try and ruin me. I'm _not_ back in the closet, though, Blaine. I would never outright deny being gay. I just don't shout it from the rooftops."

Blaine tried to hide his disappointment. _He doesn't want a relationship. He doesn't want everybody to know. His career is more important. I've got to respect that. That's dedication right there. Stop frowning. Smile. Smile! He doesn't need to know about your pathetic crush. Get it together. He doesn't need another fan fawning over him._

"Blaine?" Kurt's voice cut through his internal monologue.

"Oh, sorry. Yes? You were saying?"

"I was just explaining that I think I'm ready to change that," he repeated hesitantly, studying Blaine's face closely for his reaction.

"I- What do you mean?" _Don't get your hopes up. Do _not_ get your hopes up._

Kurt sighed impatiently. "What is this? Right now. Is this a date?"

Blaine's stomach began to do some unnerving acrobatics. "If- Only if you want it to be." He silently congratulated himself. The ball was back in Kurt's court.

Kurt smiled tentatively up at him. "I think I do."

Blaine grinned from ear to ear. He reached across the table and took Kurt's hand in his own. It was just as soft as he remembered, and it felt _right_ in his. Like it was meant to be there. He watched Kurt's eyebrows unknit, his worries visibly washing out of him.

"Then it's a date."


	6. Chapter 6: Duet

**Chapter 6: Duet**

They spent over an hour sitting there in Sabrina's, just talking and laughing and getting to know one another better. Blaine noticed more and more people coming in just to ogle at Kurt, though, and he knew the model was aware of them as well. He was trying not to show his discomfort, but Blaine could see it. He invited Kurt to come back with him to the studio, and he eagerly accepted. As they walked out, Blaine heard the familiar snap of cameras and knew without a doubt that pictures of them would be all over the internet before the day was over. He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"You alright?" Blaine asked, slipping into the passenger seat of Kurt's Navigator. Kurt started the engine and slipped on his sunglasses, even though it had been snowing gently that morning and the skies were an endless expanse of gray at the moment. He cranked up the Katy Perry number currently playing on the radio. Blaine resisted the powerful urge to sing along.

"I'm fine," Kurt finally answered. The two of them sat there for a while as Kurt collected his thoughts. After a minute or two, he seemed to snap out of it and shifted the car into drive. "I'm fine," he said again, more convincingly. "It's just going to take some getting used to. But it's nothing you need to worry about. Let's just- Let's talk about something else? Please?"

Blaine wanted to question him, but he knew better than to push it. Kurt seemed like the type to shut down when pressed. So instead Blaine began to sing along with "Teenage Dream" like he'd wanted to do when the song first came on, and after a few lines Kurt smiled and joined in. _Mission accomplished._

Pink's "Raise Your Glass" came on next, and Blaine was ecstatic to see Kurt practically radiating energy as he sang along, inhibitions gone, just enjoying himself. Blaine felt honored; to see this side of Kurt was no doubt a rarity.

"You have a magnificent voice," he complimented.

Kurt flushed. "No, not really," he denied.

"No, I'm serious," Blaine insisted. "If you weren't already so successful in what you do, I'd tell you to try your hand at singing professionally."

Kurt chuckled. "I sang in my high school's glee club, actually. Rachel still insists that I should have joined her on the stage. On the Broadway stage, that is. Not the runway."

"I'm not surprised." They pulled up outside of the studio, and he was struck with an idea. "Hey…Come on inside. I want to try something out."

Kurt gave him a curious look as he got out of the car and wordlessly followed him to the door. Blaine unlocked it and led him upstairs into one of the six empty practice rooms. This one had a grand piano in the corner. Blaine settled himself in front of it and flexed his fingers.

"What are you doing?" Kurt finally inquired.

"You mean what are _we_ doing?" Blaine corrected. "And _we_ are going to duet."

Kurt gaped at him. "Oh, no, I couldn't!" he said immediately, holding up both hands and shaking his head. "I- No, you wouldn't want me to–"

"Please?" Blaine cut in, flashing his puppy-dog eyes. Wes and David always told him that those eyes were irresistible. He hoped it held true with Kurt. "Come on, it'll be fun! Here, you start."

And without any sheet music, he began to play "Candles," by Hey Monday. Kurt, although still hesitant, started to sing. His voice was pure and soft, stable even when he grew louder, more confident. Blaine joined in for the chorus, and Kurt blushed and looked away when they made eye contact. He sidled a bit closer, hands resting on the piano, gazing as if transfixed down at Blaine's hands as they danced over the ivory keys.

"You play beautifully," Kurt murmured into the silence that descended after the song had ended.

"Your voice sounds much better," Blaine said humbly, beaming when Kurt glowed from the praise. _His face has never lit up like _that_ before…_"Would you be willing to sing something else with me?"

Kurt laughed and readily agreed.

…

An hour or so later, Kurt's phone beeped.

"Oh, shoot," Kurt muttered. "I have to go get ready for a show." He looked at Blaine sadly. "But I don't want to leave."

Blaine gave a small smile of agreement. "Well, you're free to come by whenever you'd like. I love singing with you. I haven't heard a countertenor that talented in quite a while."

Kurt bit his lip, contemplating something. "Hey…If- If you're not busy right now, maybe you'd like to come with me? I mean, it'll probably be kind of boring, but at least we could spend a little more time together."

Blaine had to restrain himself from bouncing in his seat with excitement. "I'd love to."

Kurt beamed. "Really? Awesome! Okay, um, let's go. I'll drive. It's kinda far." He pulled out his car keys from his pocket and led the way downstairs and outside. Blaine locked the door behind him, practically skipping to the car.

On the way, Kurt explained that the show was being put on by NYU students majoring in fashion design. This was their final project for the fall semester, and professional models had been requested to participate. Kurt had insisted that Mike confirm his attendance. Blaine had no doubt that Kurt was going to be fawned over from the second he walked through the doors. When he told him as much, Kurt just laughed and winked that patented little wink at him that made his stomach flip.

Mike met them at the entranceway when they arrived on campus and ushered Kurt inside, throwing a quick, curious glance Blaine's way. "They've been arguing nonstop for half an hour over who will get to assist you. In the end Professor Gelp had to step in. The two girls who made your outfits are going to be working with you – they're talented, but huge fans, so expect some swooning. I sent your measurements when I called to RSVP, so there shouldn't be too many alterations needed. They have donuts and cinnamon rolls out on the table. Only have the watermelon and coffee. The–"

"Mike," Kurt finally interrupted in a warning tone. "I told you not to try and control my diet. I'm still underweight and my ass still looks awesome in skinny jeans. You have nothing to worry about."

"Right, right. Sorry." Mike veered left down a side-hallway. Kurt's long strides easily matched Mike's, but Blaine had to jog a little to keep up. They arrived at a nondescript door and Mike threw it open. "In here."

Kurt gave Blaine a brief, reassuring smile before stepping through. Blaine quickly followed. There were college students – mostly girls, but with a handful of boys – flitting around the room, fiddling with different pieces of clothing and making last-minute adjustments. A few models were already there, getting fitted.

When the room spotted the newest arrival, they broke out into fervent murmuring. An older woman, clearly the professor in charge, approached them, glasses slipping down her nose, thin brown hair pulled back into a loose bun, clipboard in hand.

"Hello, Mr. Hummel," she greeted, holding out a hand. Blaine could see the familiar gleam in her eyes, symbolic of deep admiration. It was the same look he'd seen on everyone else's faces upon meeting Kurt – awe, surprise, attraction. He wondered in passing if the same expression had crossed his own face when he'd first realized who he was talking to. _Very likely. _"You'll be working with Ashley and Eloise today – two of my best students, I can assure you. They have each designed an outfit you will be modeling tonight. One formal, one more casual."

"Sounds great," Kurt smiled. Blaine had to bite back a laugh; the woman was obviously trying to retain her professionalism.

She adjusted the glasses on her nose and finally looked away from him, over his shoulder, at Blaine. "And this is…?"

"This is Blaine," Kurt answered before Blaine could even open his mouth. "He's with me." He was not asking permission; he was _telling_ her. She just smiled dazedly and nodded. Blaine was fairly certain she would have given Kurt her bank account information at this point if he'd asked for it. It was both amusing and slightly frustrating.

Professor Gelp led the pair of them (Mike had disappeared in the direction of the refreshments table) over to where two girls were awaiting them, shoulders quivering with suppressed giggles.

"This is Ashley Brown and Eloise Post," the older woman introduced. "Ashley has designed the 'casual' outfit; let's start with that one, shall we?"

"Pleased to meet you." Kurt offered a hand to them. Blaine had half a mind to step forward and grab them each by their elbows, because they looked distinctly weak at the knees from Kurt's simple gesture. Eloise – a tiny, dark-haired Latina girl – literally squealed as she grabbed his hand in both of hers. Blaine couldn't help it; he snorted softly in laughter. Kurt snuck him a joking, exasperated frown of ultimate torture over his shoulder, making Blaine press his fist into his mouth to keep himself from offending the young designers any further.

The other girl, a tall, lanky redhead, was slightly more controlled. "The pleasure is all ours," she said as she clasped Kurt's hand briefly in her own. "It's an absolute honor to be able to work with you, Mr. Hummel."

"I'm glad I could be of help," Kurt said easily. He glanced at the rack behind them. "Shall we begin?"

"Oh- Yes, of course." She hurried to pull the hanger on the end off and hand it over. "Changing rooms are just back there. Come on out when you're dressed and I- we can make any necessary adjustments."

Kurt nodded – no doubt he'd heard similar words countless times before – and gestured with a nod for Blaine to follow him. He went without protest. When they were out of earshot, Blaine couldn't resist leaning in and whispering, "Careful. If you distract them with your pretty face, they'll accidentally stick you with needles."

Kurt did not bother to stifle his laughter. "I suppose I should be worried, then. I haven't worked with students for a long while…Perhaps we should make a run for it now, while I'm still relatively unscathed!"

Blaine held the curtain to one of the small changing stalls open for him, chuckling. Kurt slipped in with a smile of thanks. "Wait here for me?"

"Sure."

The curtain fluttered closed. Before Blaine could even begin to look for somewhere to sit, Kurt's voice was floating out to him, slightly muffled. "Sorry, I know this is probably all really boring for you."

"Not at all," Blaine assured at once. "It's really interesting. I've never been anywhere near this sort of business – modeling and designing. It's…educational."

He heard Kurt snort, and the rustle of fabric, before a coat and shirt were tossed over the top of the stall. He caught them both before they could hit the ground. "Well, that's a relief," Kurt said, and it took Blaine a moment to remember what they were talking about. "At least you can admire the works in progress."

Pants flew over the rim next, and Blaine choked on air.

"And now I remember why Mike doesn't like it when I model for amateurs…"

"Come out?" Blaine requested.

The curtains parted. Kurt was clad in faded yellow jeans, skintight at the thighs but flared out oddly at the calves. A loose, long-sleeved white blouse and an emerald green vest with intricate gold embroidery covered his torso.

Blaine studied the ensemble objectively. If he could do anything when it came to clothing, it was scrutinize. "It'll definitely need some tailoring," he conceded. "But…I like it. It's very late-morning-picnic-in-the-park."

Kurt raised an eyebrow and looked down at himself once more. As he led the way back to Eloise and Ashley, he laughed quietly and said, "I think you just proved your gayness to me all over again, Blaine. Well done."

He chuckled and pretended to be offended. Before he could respond, however, Eloise spoke up.

"Wow, Mr. Hummel, you look incredible, as always!" she gushed.

"The bottom of the pants probably need to be brought in," Kurt advised, speaking to Ashley. "And I'd suggest closing the sleeves. A button at the wrists, or something of the sort."

"Yes, I'd have to agree," she nodded thoughtfully, finally all business. "El, can you go get the button box for me?" She crouched down and opened up a sewing kit. Withdrawing a couple pins, she held them between pursed lips and began to fold and tug experimentally at the left pant leg. Kurt met Blaine's gaze. They both had to look away a second later to keep from bursting into laughter. There was something so odd about going from their coffee date, to duetting at Blaine's studio, to trying to ignore the girl on her knees in front of Kurt. It was by far the strangest date he'd ever been on.

(And he loved every second of it.)

"How long does this usually take?" he asked, sinking down onto an unoccupied chair and carefully draping Kurt's clothes over the armrest. Kurt slid his hands into his back pockets, hip cocked, the picture of ease as Ashley silently began to pin the pants.

"Depends," he shrugged. "Sometimes it only takes five minutes, sometimes it takes hours. The show tonight isn't until six. It's always good to allow extra time during preparation, though. And after this there's still hair and make-up…"

Blaine frowned in confusion. "But when we first met, at that show, you'd only just arrived," he recalled.

"I'd already gone through all of the rehearsal earlier," he explained. Ashley moved on to the right leg. "I'd convinced Mike to let me go get some dinner though, because I hadn't eaten all day and I was starving, and the only food they had to offer was celery sticks, and as _delicious_ as that is, it wasn't gonna cut it for me."

Eloise returned with the buttons. "El," Ashley murmured, "can you go get the shoes we picked out? They're still in the back-room, I think."

"Yeah, of course." She retreated once more. Ashley returned to pinning the outer seam of the jeans.

"You're really at home with all of this," Blaine observed, speaking to Kurt as if they had not been interrupted. "Very…in your element."

Kurt chuckled. "Well, I should hope so. This _is_ my job, after all."

"How many shows have you done?"

"Oh god," Kurt sighed. "Too many to count, that's for sure. Most of the major shows are during the transitions between seasons. When it's more relaxed, like right now, I tend to do more low-key benefit gigs. I like to work with schools when I can. Like this. Probably stems from my regret about not graduating college myself or something…But I'd much rather be here than hitting the beach with Andrej Pejic."

"You know Andrej Pejic?" Ashley gasped, pausing in her tailoring to gape up at him.

Kurt gave her a playful 'are you serious?' look. "Sweetie, you're talking to a man that has Thomas Handson on speed-dial. Of _course_ I know Andrej. Last time I was in Paris, we did a show together."

"I saw the pictures, yeah," she muttered, still clearly awestruck. "I just- I didn't realize you two…"

Kurt shrugged, letting her know with his eyes that he was just messing with her. "He's very sweet. We ended up spending the entire after-party discussing foreign language courses in high school and the universal definition of beauty."

Ashley looked floored. She mumbled an apology for interrupting and returned her attention to the pants. Kurt grinned before glancing back up at Blaine.

"You've never been caught in any big scandals, though," Blaine continued with their earlier conversation of Kurt's explosive popularity. "For someone who socializes with all the big celebrities, you really aren't in the tabloids all that much, unless they're praising you on another sold-out show or something."

Kurt smirked. "Been following me in the media, have you?"

Blaine flushed. "I- Uh, I mean, not obsessively or anything. It's kinda hard not to, though. Those magazines at the check-out lines…" He shrugged, hoping it looked nonchalant. "I keep seeing headlines like 'Modern Adonis wows audience in stunning new design by insert-famous-designer-here.'"

Kurt laughed and shifted his weight, wincing when a needle pricked his calf.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry!" Ashley panicked.

"Don't worry, my fault," he soothed.

"You're not–" Blaine began, but just then his phone went off in his pocket. With a quick glance at Kurt to make sure it was alright – who rolled his eyes endearingly in response – he pulled the ringing device out and answered the call.

"Hello?"

"Dude, where are you?"

He sighed. "Hi, Wes. I miss you, too. My day's been going fine, thanks, how's yours?"

"Right, right, now why aren't you at the studio? You're never _not_ at the studio."

Blaine stood up slowly with the vague idea of stepping out into the hallway so as to not disturb anyone. "I'm with Kurt, actually."

"_What?_"

He flinched and held the phone away from his ear. Kurt giggled. He stuck his tongue out at the model before heading towards the refreshments table. He was suddenly craving something sweet.

"Kurt?" Wes demanded. "Kurt, as in the world-famous supermodel? Kurt, as in the guy we met at that fashion show a few weeks ago? Kurt, as in the guy you ran into at Sabrina's and he said he'd come by your studio sometime? That Kurt?"

"Yes, _that_ Kurt. What other Kurt do we know?"

David's voice drifted through from the background. "Blaine, man, why didn't you tell us you were going to be hangin' with Kurt Hummel today? We could have tagged along!"

"That's exactly why I didn't tell you," Blaine chortled. He picked up a donut hole and popped it into his mouth. "You two always try and crash whenever I meet remotely famous people. Remember the Rachel Berry fiasco? She nearly took a restraining order out on you two dumbos!"

"What can we say, we're just attracted to the limelight," David sighed.

"And the attractive people _in_ the limelight," added Wes cheerfully.

Blaine shook his head, even though they couldn't see him. "Sometimes you guys seriously seem gayer than me." He quickly ate another powdered donut hole. "I should probably go. I'm not sure what the cell phone policy is here."

"Where are you?"

"NYU."

"The school?"

"No, the barber shop. _Yes_, the school."

"Why?" Wes asked, unfazed by his sarcasm.

"Kurt has a show tonight. He agreed to model for the fashion design students. This is their semester final or something. Anyway, I'm gonna go now. I'll talk to you later."

"Wait, hold up. You're leaving us? For a boy?" David gasped.

"I never thought I'd see the day…"

"We've been replaced, Wes. Blaine's found a new playmate."

"And on that uncomfortable and sufficiently awkward note, _goodbye_." Blaine hung up and grabbed a third donut hole. He was still smiling when he got back to Kurt, whose shirt sleeves were now clasped at the wrists with golden buttons that matched the embroidery on his vest. They made eye contact and smiled. Blaine could not bring himself to regret cutting his conversation with Wes and David short. He loved his friends, he did.

He just loved spending time with Kurt more.


	7. Chapter 7: Texts

**Chapter 7: Texts**

"Who was that?" Kurt asked as they made their way back to the changing stalls, walking carefully to ensure he didn't accidentally stick himself with the pins still in his pants. Eloise had returned with the shoes Ashley requested and handed over her own design for Kurt to try on while Ashley was working on the alterations to hers.

"My friends, David and Wes," Blaine informed him. "They went by my studio just now and wanted to know why I wasn't there. Because apparently I'm a hermit that never leaves work unless I'm at home asleep or drinking coffee at Sabrina's."

Kurt stepped into the first available stall and closed the curtains behind him. "Well obviously that's not true, or else you wouldn't be here with me," he said cheerfully. Blaine did his best not to think about what Kurt was doing behind that curtain. _Not appropriate, Blaine. At all._ "Have I met them before?"

"You did, actually, yeah. Backstage, the night we first met."

"I hope they don't hate me for stealing you today."

"No, of course not! No. They actually wanted to come join us," Blaine chuckled. "They, uh, they like being around famous people. A lot." He raised his eyes to the ceiling, even though Kurt couldn't see him. "I amuse them every now and then when one of my students makes it big, but…"

"Do you want tickets for the show, then?"

Blaine froze. "I- Oh, no, I would never- I don't want to- I'm not going to use you for free passes or anything like that. Really. I- I don't want to be a fame-leech. I know a lot of people would probably try and do that, if given the chance."

He could hear the amusement in Kurt's voice. "Yes. But for you I wouldn't mind. You didn't even _recognize_ me when we first met; I highly doubt you're out to take advantage of me. I'd be more than happy to get you some free tickets to my shows whenever you'd like."

Blaine attempted to control his dopey grin as Kurt stepped back out, clad in Eloise's formal outfit. And formal it was. The black fitted pants hugged him just so, the shoes were polished and heeled, and the silver-accented midnight blue shirt showed from beneath the unbuttoned black jacket. This one seemed to fit him much better, although the pants were a little long.

"Blaine?"

He shook himself out of his daze. "I- Uh, sorry. You look…really good."

Kurt blushed. "Thank you." He headed back towards Eloise and Ashley. "So are you coming tonight, then? I'm sure the tickets are probably fairly cheap, if you still insist on not 'using' me." He made quotation marks with his fingers.

"Well, David and Wes might still show up," he mused. "I'm afraid I can't, though. I've got two students coming in this evening for their lessons. I'm sorry."

"Oh." Kurt's face fell fractionally, although it might have just been Blaine's imagination. "Alright. That's fine. You've got to work, too."

Blaine hesitated. "I- I'd like to go to another one sometime, though."

Kurt's face promptly lit up again. He handed the pinned outfit back to Ashley and let Eloise begin her work. "Aren't you worried you'll be bored to death by the vain runway models?"

He snorted, but had the decency to look a little ashamed. He wondered if he'd ever live that down. "Well, I guess you'll just have to prove to me that they're worth my time then, huh?"

Kurt smiled devilishly, a playful glint in his eye. "Seems tedious and time-consuming…I accept the challenge."

…

By the time the two outfits were deemed acceptable for the runway by Professor Gelp, Blaine had to head back to the studio. Kurt shook off Mike – who was trying to usher him towards the hair and make-up students – to walk Blaine to the edge of campus.

"I'll text you," Kurt promised.

"Can't wait," said Blaine with a wide smile. "I wish I could be there tonight."

"Another time," Kurt assured. "I'm sure you'll have plenty more chances to watch me in all my bright-light glory." He gave an exaggerated hand gesture that made Blaine laugh.

"I guess I'll talk to you later?"

"Yeah." Kurt hesitated, looking like he was internally debating something, but just when he began to extend a hand Mike called sharply from the doorway. He sighed and turned to head back inside. "Bye, Blaine."

"Bye."

He quickly flagged down a cab and directed the driver to his studio, smiling like an idiot the whole time. Everything was just so _good_. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive. It was sort of incomprehensible; he'd just gone on a date with _Kurt Hummel_. An odd, unconventional form of a date, valid, but an official date nonetheless.

_Today's been a very, _very_ good day._

…

When he arrived at work and practically danced out of the cab, Jasmine was just arriving, violin case in hand. She gave him a startled eyebrow-raise, but he just unlocked the door for her and ushered her inside, whistling all the while.

"What's up with you, Mr. Anderson?" the petite twelve-year-old inquired, settling down at one of the overstuffed couches.

"What do you mean?" he asked innocently.

"You look like you just won the lottery or something."

"I–" He couldn't deny it, though. He _felt_ like he'd won the lottery. Only instead of money, he got something much, much better. "Let's just start the lesson, shall we?"

Jasmine pouted, clearly upset that she wouldn't be getting the gossip she wanted. But Blaine was still the teacher, so she heaved a dramatic sigh and took out her violin. She then sat there and waited, giggling a little when she saw Blaine's distant expression. "Um, Mr. Anderson? Mr. Anderson! Stop daydreaming."

He jumped. "Huh? Oh, sorry, yes! Um, let's do some scales to warm up." He retrieved his own violin and settled down onto the black leather love-seat nearby. Jasmine poked him in the side with her bow. "Hey! What was that for?"

"Because you're not even here! Not really," she accused playfully. Then something seemed to dawn on her. "Wait…Wait, sir, is this because of Kurt Hummel? He was here yesterday. Are you two, like, going out or something?"

Blaine felt his face heat up. "I- I don't- What do you–?" He fixed his eyes on his violin so that he didn't have to meet her gaze. _She's way too observant for her age_. He didn't quite know where he and Kurt stood at the moment, whether he was allowed to tell anybody about _them_ yet. He wanted to talk to Kurt about it, make sure everything was clear, before announcing it to the world. "Let's just- just get on with the lesson, okay?"

Jasmine pouted, but grudgingly began her scales.

Blaine's mind wandered. He knew that Kurt hadn't gone on many dates before, and even though today had been amazing it had been rather unconventional as far as first dates went. He decided that he would take Kurt out on a proper date as soon as possible. No work, no paparazzi, just the two of them. He could pick him up and take him to dinner and maybe go to–

"Mr. Anderson?"

He blinked. "Yes?"

"Your phone…"

He glanced down at his pocket. The screen of the vibrating device had lit up, illuminated through the fabric in an eerie square of light. The noise quickly shut off – just a text. "Oh. Sorry."

"You can check it, you know." The little smirk on her face made it clear who she expected it to be. Although he would never admit it, he wanted it to be Kurt, too. But he pinned her with a disapproving frown instead. "You know there's a no cell phone policy during class, Jasmine. The text will still be there in an hour. Now come on. Let's start. Have you been practicing?"

She gave another dramatic sigh, but let it go.

…

His phone was in his hand before the door had even closed behind Jasmine at the end of her session. The text was from Kurt, as he'd hoped. It was a picture of rows of empty chairs facing the runway, with the caption, **Ever wondered what it looks like from my point of view?** He chuckled and responded immediately.

**Can't say that I ever have, no. Have fun tonight! Don't forget to strut. ;)**

The door opened and Patrik, one of his older flute students, poked his head in. "Hey, man, think I could steal one of the practice rooms?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here for another couple hours or so. Have at it." He gestured towards the staircase.

"Thanks, dude! You're the best." He clapped him forcefully on the shoulder before heading upstairs, flute case in hand. Blaine's phone vibrated once again, and he checked it eagerly only to find a message from Wes.

**We're at the show! Sitting next to a super hot chick. You're missing out!**

He chuckled to himself and replied, **Not jealous about the 'hot chick' but I wish I could see the show.**

Wes texted back almost immediately. **You mean Kurt? ;) He looks hot.**

**Wes your gayness is showing.**

**Shut up! I was just stating a fact for my best gay's benefit!**

**Sure. Keep telling yourself that.**

**Fine, I won't send a picture then!**

Blaine laughed at Wes' immaturity. **Alright. Somehow I think I'll survive. I can just go see Kurt in person another time.**

He could practically feel his friend's frustration as he pocketed the phone and began to prepare for his next student. Just as little Joey arrived with his guitar case practically as large as himself, Blaine felt another text vibrate his phone, and he slipped it out quickly. It was a slightly blurry picture of Wes and David in their seats, heads close to fit into the shot, with Kurt mid-runway in the background. He looked as amazing as ever in Eloise's design, light brown hair done up in a perfectly controlled coif. The caption was, **Now are you jealous? ;)**

He had to repress a snort of laughter as Joey settled down on a chair that nearly swallowed his lithe body. **Don't text during a show! It's rude!** But then, as an afterthought, he added, **Yes, I'm jealous.**

He then shut off his phone completely and did his best to focus on the lesson at hand.

…

That evening when he arrived home, he turned his phone back on to find a new text message from Kurt. Just seeing the name sent a pleasant little shiver up his spine.

**Show went great! Strutted like a peacock just for you. You should have been there.**

He giggled and replied immediately. **I clearly missed out! Wes and David went, though.**

**Yeah, they came to say hi afterwards. Very…exuberant guys, aren't they?**

Blaine laughed. **That's putting it lightly. Hey, are you busy tomorrow?**

Kurt's reply did not come until Blaine had showered and buried himself under his layers of sheets and blankets, bundled up tight in the hopes of combatting the cold that leaked into his apartment every night despite the best efforts of his heating system. **Free after 5pm. Got anything in mind?**

**I was hoping you'd let me take you to dinner.**

**That sounds marvelous. :) I know it sounds awful, but do you think we could go somewhere...not too public?**

Blaine paused, thinking out exactly how to respond. **That's fine. We should talk, though, so we're both on the same level. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings.**

The reply was instantaneous. **I agree completely!**

After arranging when and where Blaine would pick him up, they said goodnight. Blaine was torn between nervous and excited for the next day. It would be good to clear the air and make sure he wasn't presuming anything. But more than that, he was simply eager to see Kurt again. Talking to the young man, merely being in his presence, was the best he'd felt in years. Possibly in his life. There was something about the model that Blaine could never get enough of. He wanted to know more, to share memories with him and grow closer and learn about one another together. He couldn't be positive that it wasn't just the typical feelings of a fan, but he liked to think that there was something special between them, something not everybody shared with Kurt.

_After all, why would Kurt say he wanted today to be a date if he didn't want me to be more than a fan to him?_


	8. Chapter 8: Official

**Chapter 8: Official**

Kurt's apartment was not what Blaine had imagined when he arrived to pick him up the next night. It was smaller, for one thing; not as small as Blaine's by any means, of course, but definitely not illogically huge. Each room had its own theme, and everything was neat and organized. Apart from the dishes in the sink, and the magazines scattered across the coffee table in the sitting room, and the numerous photographs adorning the walls, it didn't seem to be very lived-in. Which made sense, considering how often Kurt traveled.

"Sorry, I only just got back," Kurt confessed, after letting Blaine in and giving him a brief tour of the flat. "Just give me five minutes and then we can go, okay? Make yourself at home."

"Take your time," Blaine assured with a smile. Kurt hesitated for a second longer before nodding and scurrying into his bedroom. Blaine ended up wandering closer to one of the picture-dotted walls, curious to know what, or more precisely _who_, Kurt considered important enough to frame and use as his apartment's décor. There was a wide variety of faces – from celebrities he recognized from the tabloids to younger girls and boys in various matching costumes. He noted that the Broadway star Rachel Berry was in quite a few of them, including the high school shots of what seemed to be Kurt's show choir. Another reoccurring face was of a very tall young man that, judging from the family photos, was his step-brother Finn.

But what really struck him was the realization that they were all candid. The group shots of his friends from school, the collection of family arrangements, the pictures of Kurt with various celebrities – they were all casual, amateur compositions. Nothing posed, nothing feigned. Here Kurt was, a model, someone who worked with cameras on a daily basis, who had access to some of the most talented photographers in the business, and yet he decided to stick with randomly-shot, unprofessional photos for his walls? It didn't make sense.

_Perhaps he cares more about the memories they invoke than the actual aesthetic beauty of them._

All of a sudden, Blaine felt like he'd finally figured out what Kurt was really all about. The _true_ Kurt – not the Kurt who dominated any runway he was sent down, not the Kurt that signed everything thrust in his face and took pictures with fans wherever he went, not even the Kurt that hid from the paparazzi so that he could maintain some semblance of a personal life. This was _Kurt_, who loved his family and treasured his friends and wanted to keep them close, even if he couldn't be with them in person.

"Alright, I'm ready."

He turned. Kurt stood in the doorway, smiling at him. Blaine just stared. _This_ was Kurt. _This_ was the guy he wanted to know. Not the supermodel. Not the Modern Adonis. This kind, loyal, thoughtful young man.

"Blaine?"

"Oh, sorry!" He grinned brightly. "Yes, let's go."

Kurt linked his arm with Blaine's, and they headed out.

…

"I can honestly say I've never even heard of this place!" Kurt admitted, looking around in interest as he slid into the secluded booth in the back opposite Blaine. A candle flickered on the table between them, casting soft shadows across his features.

"This is one of the best kept secrets of New York," Blaine grinned, unfolding the menu and ignoring the way their waiter was studying Kurt, obviously trying to match a name with a face. "Just like Sabrina's."

Kurt raised a playful eyebrow. "Is that going to become our thing? Finding the hidden jewels of the city?"

Blaine returned his gaze evenly. "Do you want it to be? Do you want us to have a 'thing'?"

Kurt hesitated, then sighed and leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his interwoven fingers. "Jumping right into the serious stuff, then, are we? Alright." He took a deep breath. "I like you, Blaine. I like seeing you, and talking to you, and spending time with you."

Blaine could not have stopped his smile even if he'd tried. "Same for me," he breathed.

"But…" Kurt bit his lip, glancing around, his expression dampening with sadness. "My job…My entire life is in the spotlight, and I just- I don't know–"

Their waiter came back with their drink orders. Blaine had red wine; Kurt stuck with water. Blaine waited for the lanky teenager to leave again before speaking.

"You don't have to decide anything right this instant, Kurt. I just don't want to presume anything, or let something slip that you don't want others to know…"

"I–" Kurt reached out and took Blaine's hand. "I'm not ashamed to be seen with you, Blaine. Please don't _ever_ think that. I want to keep going out with you. I'm just…not sure how public I want to take this. I mean, everything is still so new, and I don't know how the media would react to that kind of news, and I don't want you to–"

"Hey, hey, it's alright," Blaine soothed, stroking his thumb across the back of Kurt's hand. "It's okay. For now we can just keep it under wraps, okay? Just get to know each other better first. We can deal with going public with our relationship if and when it comes to that. But for now, when you're still unsure about everything, it's probably best that we take it at our own pace, keep it away from the public eye. Does that sound reasonable?"

Kurt let out a long breath of relief. "_Thank you_." With deliberate slowness, he withdrew his hand and rested both of his own in his lap, smiling gratefully across the table at him. "You're too good for me, you know that?"

He blushed, staring a hole into his utensils. "No, I'm really not."

Kurt just shook his head and finally focused on the menu before him.

…

After dinner, Blaine invited Kurt to go get some ice cream for dessert.

"It's November!" Kurt laughed incredulously, wrapping his arms around himself to conserve heat as they stepped out into the crisp evening air. Blaine resisted the urge to draw him closer and slip an arm around his shoulders.

"Hot fudge sundaes, then."

Kurt chuckled and nudged his elbow with his own. "When I gain ten pounds, I'm siccing Mike on _you_."

Blaine smirked. "Deal." They walked for a while in comfortable silence. When he spoke again, he'd grown more serious. "Does he keep a close eye on your weight?"

The brunette shrugged. "It's not actually in his job description, but he makes sure I don't get into the danger zone. My contract specified a certain weight that I'm not allowed to surpass. If I ever get within five pounds of it, Mike starts to get on my case. Luckily I have an awesome metabolism, so it's usually not too much of a problem."

Blaine frowned. "That can't be healthy, though."

"No, really not," agreed Kurt easily, smiling at Blaine's obvious distress. "But at least I don't puke up my guts or anything. I just exercise and try to eat as healthily as possible."

Blaine recalled the salad Kurt had ordered for dinner. "We- We don't have to get ice cream if you don't want to. I don't want to make Mike mad at you. Or at me."

Kurt caught his eye and held it. "No, I want to," he assured. "Don't worry about it, okay? Really. One night of splurging won't put me in the danger zone. And if it does, I'll just have to work it off." He shrugged.

"You're incredible, you know that?" Blaine sighed. "I would never have the self-discipline to do what you do."

Kurt grinned. "I know," he teased. "It took years of intense training before I was strong enough to say no to a slice of homemade peach pie."

They had to pass by Kurt's apartment complex to get to the ice cream parlor, but when they turned the corner they spotted a crowd of people gathered outside the building. _Odd_, thought Blaine. He wondered if perhaps there were other celebrities living in the same complex as Kurt.

Kurt grabbed his arm and yanked him back around the corner, out of view.

"Kurt?"

"Paparazzi," the model hissed. "Must have been tipped off I'd gone out tonight. Shit."

Blaine gaped. This was the first time he'd ever heard Kurt swear. "Do you- I mean–" He took a calming breath and rested his hand over Kurt's, which still had a vice-like grip on his upper arm. "Come on, we can just take a different route."

Kurt nodded wordlessly. They made their way around the block, the long way, and thankfully didn't run into any paparazzi by the time they made it to the parlor.

"I'm so sorry," Kurt whispered as soon as they were seated. A large banana split sat between them.

Blaine's spoonful of ice cream paused on the way to his mouth. "What on Earth for? _You_ didn't alert the media."

"I know but- I feel like- I feel like I just ruined our date." He crossed his arms and glowered down at the table.

"Hey." The musician reached over and gently unfolded his arms, taking his hand like he'd wanted to do since leaving the restaurant. "You ruined _nothing_," he insisted. "I'm sure they'll clear out soon enough. We can kill time here until then. This banana split isn't going to eat itself after all."

Kurt gave a tentative smile. "Do- Do you maybe want to come back to my place? When they're gone? We can watch a movie or something…"

Blaine beamed. "I'd love to."

…

Thankfully, the paparazzi had dispersed by the time they arrived back at the apartment complex.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said again as they stepped into the elevator. "It's- This is going to happen a lot if you stay with me. There's going to be people wherever we go, and cameras, and microphones, and we'll probably have to outright _lie_ at times, and I'm just so sorry you have to–"

"Hey, hey," Blaine cut in, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him around so they were face-to-face. Kurt sighed, his head falling to rest on Blaine's shoulder. "It's alright, okay? Stop worrying so much. Let's just go in and get relaxed and put in a movie, and _then_ if you'd like, we can talk. That sound good?"

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Kurt stepped back out of his embrace, but took his hand instead. "That sounds perfect," he grinned.

Blaine smiled back, and together they made their way to Kurt's apartment, hands linked, eyes flickering to one another every few seconds as if neither of them could quite believe this was really happening. Blaine felt like he was back in high school with a pathetic boy-crush. Except this was different. Because this was _Kurt_, and they were _dating_, and there was no way he could be making all this up in his mind, because even his imagination wasn't this good.

"I want to make something very clear," Kurt began once they'd settled down on his living room couch with a bowl of popcorn, the opening scene of _Sound of Music_ playing out on his television screen. "I do like you. A lot. And I would never be ashamed to be with you. Okay?"

Blaine's smile nearly hurt it was so wide. "Okay."

Kurt took a deep breath, his hand finding Blaine's and pulling it into his lap. He traced the veins, circled the knuckles, outlined the fingers. "But at the same time, I'm scared. I'm scared about what could happen if the media took it as a great scandal or something. They- They'd _harass_ you, Blaine. Both of us. We'd never have a moment's peace. I don't want to- to make you go through that. I want this relationship to be just about us, without interference from the press. I mean, don't get me wrong, I still want to show you off to my friends and family and do all that lame, cheesy, cliché couple-y things with you…I just don't want to risk anything by going public with this and making the paparazzi attack you." He huffed out a breath. "I'm sorry. This is all _I want, I want, I want_. What do _you_ want, Blaine?"

"I want to be with you."

He said it with the utmost conviction, with a positivity that startled even himself. He sat up straighter, rubbing the pads of his fingers into Kurt's palms.

"As long as I can have that, I don't really care. I'll go with whatever you're comfortable with. If you think that keeping it from the media is the best move then I'm all for it." He smiled brightly at him, before adding, "But if I don't tell at least Wes and David, they will literally kill me."

Kurt laughed. "How would they find out in the first place if you don't tell them, though?"

"They'd notice how much happier I am." Blaine paused in his ministrations, letting Kurt know with his eyes that he was serious, that he was fully invested in this relationship, that he was willing to do whatever it took to keep it alive, and keep Kurt happy.

Kurt sighed contentedly and curled up into Blaine's side, head tucked under his chin, legs draped over Blaine's lap. His hand moved up to trace random patterns into the front of Blaine's shirt. The musician shivered from the sensation. "You're perfect…I don't deserve you."

"Don't deserve me?" Blaine actually snorted from the incredulity of it all. "You've got it all backwards. _I'm_ the one who doesn't deserve _you_. I mean, you're- you're so…_you_! And I'm just…me."

Kurt pursed his lips in a vain attempt to hide his amusement. "Well, that sums everything up nicely. Thank you. I understand completely now."

Blaine laughed at his own inarticulacy. "I'm sorry. I just mean…I'm not even sure what I mean. You're so far out of my league it's impossible to put into words."

Kurt hummed and tucked his head back under Blaine's. "You put me on far too high of a pedestal, sweetie."

"Sorry," he repeated quietly, barely louder than a whisper, secretly loving the pet name. He ran his hand delicately down Kurt's side. The taller man shivered and pressed even closer. "I know you don't like it when people do that. Make you seem godlike, that is."

"Hmm. I don't mind so much when you do it, though."

Kurt drew back a bit, just enough to look Blaine in the eyes, his gaze flickering down to Blaine's mouth, then back up. "Blaine," he breathed, and he sounded nervous. "I…Can I…?"

Blaine answered by closing the distance between them and pressing his lips gently to Kurt's.


	9. Chapter 9: Boyfriend

**Chapter 9: Boyfriend**

"Hey, Blaine?" Kurt murmured later that night. They were still snuggled up close on the couch, _The Sound of Music_'s credits rolling on the widescreen. They'd somehow become even more intertwined, with arms wrapped around each other and legs woven. Kurt's head rested on Blaine's chest. The bowl of popcorn was long forgotten on the coffee table.

"Yeah?"

"Are you my boyfriend?" The sleepy question startled Blaine, and Kurt must have felt him tense because he quickly amended, "I want you to be. I want us to be able to introduce each other to our parents as 'boyfriend.' But since we won't be an official couple in public, I- I understand if you'd rather not use that title…"

Blaine chuckled and kissed him on the crown of his head. "I would be _honored_ to call myself your boyfriend, Kurt."

"Oh," Kurt breathed. "Okay. Good. Great!" He giggled and tilted his head up to press his lips to the underside of Blaine's jaw. "Hi, boyfriend."

The curly-haired man smiled so widely he was sure it must have looked maniacal. "Hello to you, too, boyfriend." He noticed Kurt's closed eyes, the steady breathing. "You sleepy, Angel?"

Kurt's eyebrows twitched upwards at the new nickname, but he didn't comment on it. Instead he muttered, "'M not sleepy…"

"Oh really?" Blaine teased. "Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're about to start snoring."

The model pouted and sat up a bit, eyes still shut. "I don't snore," he mumbled.

"I'm sure you don't." Blaine then turned off the television and scooped Kurt up into his arms. The countertenor squeaked in surprise, eyes finally opening as his arms instinctually clung to Blaine's neck.

"B-Blaine! Wh-What're you–?"

"You look too exhausted to even walk right now," Blaine answered honestly, making his way to Kurt's bedroom. He silently thanked his good memory. "You're going to go to bed and get some well-earned sleep."

"Yes, sir," Kurt sighed, relaxing in Blaine's hold. He did not protest as Blaine nudged open the door with his toe, flicked the light on with his elbow, and set him down carefully on the king-sized bed. He hardly reacted at all as Blaine pulled back the comforter and sheets and gently guided Kurt's body underneath them. Blaine smiled. _So, Kurt's the type of guy that's completely out of it when he's tired. I'll have to keep that in mind._

"Good night, Kurt," he whispered, kissing his forehead.

As he moved to leave the room, he felt Kurt latch onto his wrist, and he turned back to find him looking blearily up at him. "No, don't go," he commanded, sounding like a grumpy toddler. "Stay."

Blaine swallowed thickly, forcing the mental images back into the recesses of his brain. "I don't think that would really be appropriate, Kurt…"

Kurt did not seem perturbed, though. "Guest room," he managed to get out. "Down the hall…Sleep there…Pretty please?"

Those eyes. They were irresistible. With a dramatic sigh, Blaine bent down and brushed another brief kiss across Kurt's lips. "Alright, if you insist. Sweet dreams, Angel." He smiled at the jumble of syllables Kurt emitted, eyes already closing once more, face half-buried in the pillows.

Blaine couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to fall asleep to that image every night.

…

He awoke the next morning to the smell of omelets.

_Where am I?_

The room swam into view. _Oh. Right. Kurt's_. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and forced himself to sit up – not an easy feat, considering how extraordinarily comfortable that bed was. He was sorely tempted to just bury himself under the thick duvet and stay there in his fluffy cocoon of warmth. But the aroma of breakfast was too strong to resist so, with a groan, he managed to drag himself out of bed and down the hall towards the scent of breakfast. He probably looked horrendous, but it was far too early in the morning to care about appearances. He needed food, and coffee. Then he could focus on things like the nightmare of his curls.

Kurt's voice grew louder as he approached the kitchen. He must have been on the phone. Blaine hesitated, not wanting to interrupt an important business call or anything with his desperate need for caffeine.

"–told you already, I fell asleep!…Yes, I know I said I'd call. I'm sorry. It was late and I just–…No, he slept here…In the _guest room_, Mike, god!"

_Oh. It's just Mike_. Deciding that coffee was definitely more important than Kurt's P.A., Blaine shuffled into the room, bleary-eyed and smiling half-consciously in greeting. Kurt was already dressed and ready for the day, his cheeks slightly flushed from the heat of the stove. He held his cell phone to his ear with his shoulder as he placed a few strips of bacon onto the frying pan. He glanced up at Blaine's entrance and grinned. A nod of the chin directed Blaine towards the espresso machine. He wandered over to it with a sleepy eagerness.

"Yes, he took me to dinner," Kurt was saying into the phone, moving to flip the omelet with a practiced hand. Blaine poured himself a cup of coffee, trying and failing to not listen in. "_No_, I just had a salad…Mike, watch it. We have a deal. I'm not in the danger zone so you don't get any say." He switched the phone to his other ear before transferring the bacon from the frying pan to the awaiting plate on the counter. "No, of course I'm not mad at you. Look, Blaine's awake so I'll talk to you later…Alright. Bye." He hung up and turned to Blaine with a bright smile. "Good morning!"

"Morning," he mumbled in a sleep-thick voice.

Kurt chuckled. "Not much of a morning person, huh?" He carried the plate of bacon and omelet over to the dining room table and gestured for Blaine to sit.

"I'm fine after I get some coffee in me," he assured. Kurt then brought over a bowl of mixed fruit and slid into the chair opposite. Blaine frowned. "Aren't you having any?"

"I'm not all that hungry," Kurt shrugged, with the perfect amount of nonchalance that would have fooled anybody else. But not Blaine. He pushed the fruit salad across the table towards him. Kurt laughed lightly and held up his hands. "No, really, I'm fine!"

Blaine pinned him with the ideal blend of skeptical eyebrow and puppy-dog eyes.

"Alright, alright," Kurt gave in, heaving a great sigh as he retrieved a fork from the silverware drawer. He then sat back down and skewered a cube of watermelon. "_Forcing_ me to eat in my own apartment. I see how it is."

Blaine snickered and settled into his breakfast. "If that's what it takes."

Kurt speared a slice of kiwi, twisting it around on his fork prongs without eating it. "How did you sleep last night? I'm sorry I just sort of crashed. When I'm really tired there's no hope of keeping me awake. Well, unless you can provide me with an endless supply of coffee."

Blaine laughed. "Noted." He ate another bite before adding, "I slept very well, actually. What about you?"

"Great! I had this awesome dream."

"Oh yeah? What happened in it?"

Kurt blushed and avoided his gaze. There was a sudden fascination in the bowl of chopped-up fruit before him. "Um, so- What do you want to do today? Do you have any lessons?"

Blaine decided to let it slide. "Yeah, but the first one isn't until noon. You have me for the whole morning."

Kurt smiled. "Perfect. Why don't we stay in, watch some mindless TV or something? I just want to spend some time alone with you without having to pretend we're only friends."

Blaine nodded. He felt the same way. He wanted to take advantage of their time together without interferences. "Do you think we can actually pull it off?"

Kurt thought about it for a minute. "Yeah," he finally answered. "I think we can."

Blaine nodded. If Kurt thought that they could do it, then he would definitely do everything in his power to make it so.

"When you're done eating," Kurt added, "You can wear anything out of the guest room's wardrobe. There's a collection of clothing in there in a variety of sizes. I'm sure you'll be able to find something that'll fit you."

"Awesome! Thank you."

…

Forty-five minutes later, Blaine was showered, dressed, and on the couch in the living room with Kurt, "America's Next Top Model" on the widescreen before them. He'd used some of the hair product in the guest bathroom to tame his wild curls, although Kurt confessed that he preferred them loose.

"She's anorexic," Kurt proclaimed, pointing at the blonde girl on the screen. His back was resting against Blaine's chest, head on Blaine's outstretched arm as they sprawled horizontally across the couch. Blaine's other arm was wrapped around Kurt's waist from behind. "And the brunette behind her has breast implants."

"Do you know them personally?"

"No. I can just tell. When you spend as much time as I do around these types of people, you develop a very good eye for that sort of thing."

Blaine kissed his hair gently. He could smell Kurt's strawberry shampoo and conditioner. "Must be useful. You know who's a fake and who's real."

Kurt wiggled a bit so that he was pressed even closer to Blaine's front. _My boyfriend._ Blaine reveled in the thought. _He's absolutely adorable_. "It comes in handy sometimes, yeah. I could tell right away that you were completely genuine, for instance. And look where that got us!"

Blaine smirked. "Is that why you came over to talk to me? You could tell that my boobs were real?"

Kurt almost rolled off the couch from laughing so hard. "No! I came over because you looked like you'd rather be anywhere else, and I didn't want an audience member to be so downhearted during the show. I wanted you to enjoy it, if possible. It's never fun, knowing that someone out there doesn't like me, or the clothing, or the performance."

Blaine was quiet for a moment, absently tracing Kurt's waist from hipbone to rib cage with the tip of his finger. "I did have a good time," he promised quietly. "And I certainly don't want to be anywhere else but _here_ now."

Kurt hummed in approval and twisted around for a brief, soft peck on the lips.

It was official. Blaine was in love.


	10. Chapter 10: Friends

**Chapter 10: Friends**

On a chilly Monday afternoon, they attended an outdoor concert one of Blaine's students was starring in. They acted like nothing more than two good friends enjoying the show. They didn't hold hands, they didn't kiss. The only thing that might have been construed as too intimate for 'just friends' was when Kurt snuggled up close to Blaine's side in their seats, shivering from the cold. Without thinking twice, Blaine wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Nobody around them seemed to notice.

"That was incredible!" Kurt gushed once the performance had ended, retying his gold cashmere scarf around his neck. "That blond man, the one who sang 'Uptown Girl' with your student, he was _good_."

"I agree," Blaine nodded. "But my favorite was definitely the redheaded girl."

"The soprano?"

"Yeah, her! She–"

"E-Excuse me?"

They stopped in their tracks and turned to the timid voice behind them. A little girl – she couldn't have been older than eight or nine – was gazing up at Kurt with wide, hopeful green eyes. She was clutching her programme in her tiny fists. "Can- Can you sign this for my sister, please? I wanna give it to her for Christmas…"

Kurt beamed down at her warmly. "Of course I can." He fished out a pen from his pocket – Blaine had no doubt Kurt had one on him at all times for situations like this – and crouched down to her eye level, taking the pamphlet from her and resting it on his bent knees. "What's your sister's name?"

She grinned a big, toothy grin. "Bonnie! She's six. She wants to be a model just like you, and I told her she totally could because she's super pretty, but Mom and Dad says she'll never be able to."

"Why not?"

"Because she's sick a lot, so she's always in the hospital. I hardly ever get to see her these days…" A sad look darkened her delicate features. Blaine felt a powerful urge to sweep her up into his arms and protect her from all the bad things in the world. And from Kurt's expression, he knew that the model felt the same way.

"What's your name, cutie?" His voice had gone soft, a gentle caress.

"Emily."

Kurt reached out and tugged playfully on one of her blonde pigtails. "Well, I'll tell you what, Emily. There's something I want you to tell Bonnie when you see her next. Can I trust you with a message?"

Her face lit up again. "Yes! I can tell her!"

"Tell her to keep fighting for her dreams. Because if she wants it enough, it'll happen. Hope is sometimes the greatest source of strength."

She nodded solemnly. "I'll tell her that. Thank you, Mr. Kurt."

Kurt chuckled and quickly scrawled a message on the edges of the programme.

_Bonnie-_

_I look forward to the day I see you on the runway!_

_Courage,_

_Kurt Hummel_

He handed it back to her, and with an excited squeal she pressed it to her chest and skipped off.

Kurt capped and pocketed his pen. "Shall we go?"

Blaine nodded. Still smiling faintly from the encounter, Kurt hooked his elbow with Blaine's and together they set off across the park towards the street.

"Do- Do things like that happen a lot?"

"Every now and then," Kurt said. "It always reminds me why I love doing what I do. And it reminds me that there are kids watching me and looking up to me. I have to set a good example for them."

Blaine nudged him affectionately. "You're doing a marvelous job."

Kurt smiled. Blaine resisted the urge to kiss him, as he'd been doing all evening. Resisting, that is. "So, Rachel's having a little get-together tonight at her place. Nothing big, just a handful of friends. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to accompany me?"

"As your boyfriend or as your friend?" He would say yes either way of course, but he wanted to know what capacity he would be in.

"As my boyfriend."

"I'd love to."

Kurt flagged down a taxi with practiced ease. Blaine spent the majority of the ride grilling Kurt for descriptions of the people he was about to meet. Rachel was the loud and obnoxious one; Finn was the easy-going step-brother, and Rachel's long-term boyfriend; Mike, Blaine had already met; Tina was his sweet, soft-spoke wife; Quinn was the pretty, studious girl with a broken arm; Santana was the sharp-tongued Latina; Brittany was her optimistic girlfriend; Mercedes was the fierce woman with a lot of sass.

"They're going to love you to pieces," Kurt assured him, tipping the cabbie and leading the way to the apartment complex's gate. "They'll probably try to interrogate you, but I promise they don't mean any harm. They just want to intimidate you a bit."

"Oh, joy," Blaine said sarcastically.

Kurt laughed, pushing the button for one of the apartments. "Don't worry, their intentions are good. You're the first boyfriend I've had since becoming a model and they're very protective of–"

"Kurt?" a bubbly woman's voice screeched from the intercom, making Blaine jump. "Oh my god is that you? Are you here? Please tell me you brought that delicious arm-candy with you!" When there wasn't an immediate response, she gasped and added, "Oh, shit, wait, is this the pizza delivery?"

Kurt burst out laughing. "I- No, Rach, it's me, and I brought Blaine."

There was another very loud shriek, this time of joy. "Come right on up, then!" There was a buzz, and the gate unlocked. Kurt pushed it open and grabbed Blaine's hand, squeezing it reassuringly.

"See? Not scary at all."

He caught Blaine's horrified expression.

"Okay, so maybe they're a little…intense. But I promise I'll save you if you look like you're about to pull out your own hair." He twisted a finger through the dark curls at the nape of Blaine's neck, making him shiver. "I'd hate for anything to happen to it…"

Blaine pretended to look offended as they stepped into the elevator and Kurt hit the button for level 14. "You care more about my hair than my own sanity. I see how it is!"

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Of course I don't." The doors opened and he stepped out, fingers still intertwined with Blaine's. "Although I won't deny I love your curls quite a bit."

Blaine gestured to Kurt's hair with his free hand. "Why? Yours always looks so much better! Some guys would kill for hair like yours. And probably some girls too."

"Well, you haven't seen it after I've just woken up yet," Kurt confessed, stopping in front of room 1405 and knocking loudly. Blaine could hear music coming from within. Or perhaps it was someone singing. "It looks like someone just tossed me in a river and then electrocuted me. It's not pretty."

"I'm sure your bedhead looks adorable," Blaine grinned, leaning over to press a soft kiss to Kurt's lips. He felt Kurt's hand tighten around his own. His other hand slid up to Blaine's neck, fingers slipping into Blaine's hair as he pressed closer. Blaine moaned quietly.

"Well. I can leave, answer the door again in like five minutes if you'd prefer…"

They leapt apart. Neither of them had noticed the door opening, or the pretty blonde girl with her arm in a cast smirking at them. Blaine immediately blushed to his roots. _Nice first impression. 'Hi, I'm Blaine, excuse me while I make out with your close friend.'_

"Hey, Fabray," Kurt greeted, stepping forward and offering a hug, which she happily returned with her good arm. Then he stepped back. "Blaine, this is Quinn Fabray. Quinn, this Blaine Anderson, my boyfriend."

Blaine felt a swell of pride at being introduced as such. _Kurt Hummel's boyfriend. What could be better than this? _"It's a pleasure to meet you, Quinn."

She shook his hand, examining him up and down as if trying to decide what her judgment would be. He tried to look as friendly and unthreatening as possible. Finally she broke into a wide smile. "Blaine, huh? I was wondering when I'd finally get to meet you. Kurt's been raving about you for weeks."

"Raving?" Blaine echoed, amused. Kurt's cheeks flushed.

"I- Raving isn't the word I'd use," he muttered. "I might have mentioned you a few times…"

"Mentioned?" Quinn scoffed. "Blaine, I should show you the email I got from him the day he ran into you at that coffee shop."

A brunette bounced up behind Quinn, champagne flute in hand. "Oh my goodness!" she gushed. "You're Blaine! Hi, Blaine! Remember me? I'm Rachel! Rachel Berry! You gave me singing lessons!"

He laughed. "Of course I remember you, Rachel. How could I possibly forget you?"

She seemed to positively glow from the compliment. Or perhaps it was the alcohol in her system. Either way, she latched onto his arm and yanked him inside. Kurt slipped in after him, a small smile on his face as he calmly watched Blaine interact with his friends.

"Welcome to my lovely abode!" Rachel said grandly, gesturing to the huge apartment. A handful of people sat lounging around the fireplace with glasses of champagne or beer. Rachel tugged him forward. "Come on, let me introduce you! This is my boyfriend, Finn Hudson. Isn't he handsome?"

Finn looked up at the sound of his name and flashed Blaine a friendly smile. "Hey man," he greeted, getting to his feet – _wow, Kurt wasn't lying; he's tall_ – and shaking Blaine's hand. "I'm Kurt's brother. Well, step-brother."

"Yeah, he told me about you."

"Nothing bad, I hope," he joked, but with an undercurrent of genuine worry.

"Of course not," Blaine assured, laughing lightly. "It's good to meet you."

Finn opened his mouth to say something, but Rachel butted in, latching onto Finn's arm and addressing Blaine. "And these are our friends, Mike and Tina."

Blaine glanced to Kurt's manager. "Yeah, Rachel, we've met," Mike pointed out, smiling at Blaine and raising his glass in acknowledgement. "Nice to see you again, Blaine. This is my wife, Tina Chang."

Tina shook Blaine's hand. "Hi," she said quietly, a timid smile on her face. "I'm glad to finally meet you. You've really done something to Kurt…Well, that, or he's taking a lot of happy pills I didn't know about."

Kurt laughed from behind Blaine as he and Quinn rejoined the group. "No, it's definitely Blaine," he said, wrapping an arm around Blaine's waist and earning a kiss on the cheek. The others cooed at them. Kurt flushed a little, but didn't draw away. "Blaine, since Rachel seems to be preoccupied, let me finish the introductions. This lovely woman here is Mercedes Jones. And this is the inseparable couple of Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce, but feel free to call them Satan and Britney Spears. Everyone else does."

He shook all three women's hands, and they each gave him a different look: Mercedes studied him closely, winking to Kurt in obvious approval and making both boys blush; Santana stared at him as if not sure whether she trusted him with her precious Kurt; and Brittany just smiled brightly at him.

"Is he Kurt's dolphin?" she asked Santana, completely serious. Blaine turned to Kurt in confusion, but the taller man was too busy stifling his laughter to explain.

Santana patted her girlfriend's knee. "Yes, Brit."

"Okay." Brittany turned back to Blaine. "Make sure to treat Kurt nicely, okay? He's a unicorn. It's against the rules to make unicorns cry."

Blaine nodded solemnly to her if that made perfect sense. "Of course, Brittany."

Mercedes chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll grow accustomed to it."

Kurt turned to him, so close his lips brushed Blaine's ear as he murmured, "Would you like a drink?"

"Oh!" Rachel leapt to her feet, her lipstick smeared and most of it on Finn. "I'm so sorry, I'm being a terrible host! Yes, what would you like? I've got champagne, red wine, white wine, pink wine, four different kinds of beer, water, gin and tonic…"

"Just water, thanks."

"Kurt?" Rachel asked, already moving towards the kitchen.

"Same for me," he called after her. Then, to Blaine, "Come on, let's sit down."

Blaine moved towards the white leather couch Mercedes was reclining on, but Kurt tugged him gently down into the loveseat with him, and he let out a rather childish giggle as they snuggled up against one another, Blaine practically on top of Kurt but the model not seeming to mind in the least. When Rachel returned with their ice waters, she gave them a knowing smirk before settling down next to Finn. Blaine pretended not to notice.

"So, Blaine, how's the studio going?" Mike asked, taking a sip of his beer.

And just like that, they incorporated Blaine into their little group. Kurt watched his boyfriend mingle with his friends, effortlessly winning them over, conversing and joking with them as if he'd been one of them all along.

When it grew late, and Rachel had passed out and Finn carried her to the bedroom, and they decided it was probably time to retire, and the guests slowly began to drift towards the door, Mercedes caught Kurt's arm. "He's really good for you," she whispered, glancing at the musician as he bid goodnight to Quinn and Santana and Brittany. "I haven't seen you this happy in a really long time"

Kurt smiled warmly at Blaine's profile. "Yeah," he murmured. "I _am_ happy. I- I _really_ like him, Mercedes."

She smiled. "Do you love him?"

He opened his mouth, shut it, took a deep breath. "I mean, we haven't said anything yet, and we've only been officially _together_ for a couple weeks, but…Yeah. I think I do. He's…He's perfect, Mercedes. I get butterflies in my stomach when I think about him and I smile whenever he smiles and he understands me so well and I just–" He sighed.

She snickered and bumped his hip with her own. "Oh my goodness, Hummel, you're completely lovestruck!"

"Shut up," he mumbled, unable to hide his grin.

"I'm happy for you," she assured. "And I hope the media doesn't find out before you're ready and strains things between you. Because I _really_ think you two could work out. The way he looks at you…It would be pathetic if it wasn't so adorable."

Blaine drew closer, offering a hand to Kurt, a wide smile on his face. "Ready to go?"

Kurt took it and intertwined their fingers. "Yeah." He kissed Mercedes's cheek. "Goodnight, beautiful. Text me later, okay? I want to see you before you go back to Cali."

"Will do. Night, boys!"

"Bye!" Blaine waved as they headed for the door. "It was nice meeting you!"

"Back at you, Curls!"

Kurt laughed at Blaine's nickname and kissed away his pout. "I love your curls, remember?" They made their way towards the elevator at the end of the hall. "And I love it when you get so self-conscious about them. I- I mean, I don't love that you're self-conscious. I just meant it's really cute when you–"

Blaine silenced him with a kiss. "Relax, I get what you meant."

Kurt grinned, leaning into him as Blaine's arm slipped around his waist. They didn't speak again until they were outside. "I had a really nice time tonight, Blaine. I am _so_ proud to call you mine."

Blaine's eyes were shining brightly as he turned to meet his gaze. "Good," he murmured. "I…I want you to be." They paused just before the gate, beyond which they would have to once again pretend to be nothing more than good friends. They were wrapped up in each other's arms, eyes locked, amber glaze meeting the ocean, unable to focus on anyone or anything else. "It's…It's getting pretty late. Do you maybe want to come back to my place? It's closer."

Kurt bent forward and captured Blaine's lips. "I'd love to."


	11. Chapter 11: The L Word

**Chapter 11: The L Word**

Blaine's apartment was definitely smaller than Kurt's. The kitchen opened up into a cozy little living room. On the left was the bedroom and bathroom; on the right was the guest room, which Blaine had converted into his music room.

"My god, Blaine, how many instruments do you _have_?" Kurt gasped, looking around at Blaine's collection in awe.

Blaine blushed. "I have two sets of each instrument I play," he said. "That way I can have one here and one at the studio without having to lug them back and forth."

They ended up snuggling under a mound of blankets on the couch, flipping through the channels until they settled on a random crime show. As the clock ticked on, Blaine's mind began to race. _Does he expect something? Are we going to…? Tonight? Here? Now? Am I just making this all up in my head? Should I ask? No, god, that would be too awkward. But what if he thinks I just invited him here for sex? I don't want any miscommunication. I mean, sex would be nice- No! Oh my god, no, no, stop it. That's way too fast. We just got together. I can't rush this. I need to do this right._

Within ten minutes, though, Kurt's eyes began to droop, and his head came to rest on Blaine's shoulder. With a soft chuckle, Blaine switched off the television and carefully slipped out from underneath him, lowering him gently down onto one of the couch pillows. The countertenor murmured something unintelligible and drew the blankets up to his chin. Blaine rushed to grab a spare pillow from his bed; he knew from experience those cushions left horrible crease lines when slept on. He sat down on the very edge of the couch by Kurt's shoulder, lifting him up ever so slightly to slip the extra pillow under his head.

Kurt's breathy laugh was quiet, but noticeable. "This's becoming a pattern," he mumbled, face half-buried into the new pillow, eyes closed but lips curled up in a small smile. "'M sorry…Just…So tired…"

"Sssh." Blaine brushed a hand through his hair and kissed his temple. "It's perfectly alright, Angel. Go to sleep. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

"Mhmm. G'night, Blaine…"

"Goodnight." He pressed his lips to Kurt's cheek, near the corner of his mouth, before standing and moving to turn off the lights in the living room and kitchen. In his bedroom he only lit the lamp on his side-table, even though the door to the living room was closed, and got ready for bed as silently as possible. He slipped under the comforter and switched off the light, plunging himself into darkness.

Sleep did not come easily. He kept tossing and turning, unable to get his mind off the young man sleeping fifteen feet away from him, separated by one mere wall.

_Wes and David would hit the roof if they ever found out Kurt stayed the night_, he realized, and was sorely tempted to inform them. But he knew better than that. They didn't even know Kurt was his boyfriend, after all; that news-bomb was going to have to be dropped first before any teasing details were released.

He must have slipped into dreamland at some point, because the next thing he knew he was drifting back into consciousness. It was late; the only light coming through his window was from the moon and typical city nightlife. He wasn't sure what had awoken him until he felt the slight stirring from the other side of the bed.

Somebody was next to with him.

"Sorry," Kurt's voice whispered when Blaine jerked in surprise. He turned to squint through the darkness at the model. "I woke up and I was cold. I was hoping maybe I could…"

"Oh." Blaine rubbed his eyes, tried to restart his brain. It was currently stuck at _Kurt's in my bed_ and seemed unable to move passed that. Kurt gazed down at him, eyes half-lidded and sleepy, hair slightly mussed, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he waited for Blaine's reaction. "I- Yeah, sure. Sorry, I know how cold it gets in here at night."

"Thanks." Kurt slid under the blankets, keeping a respectful distance between them. Blaine could feel the chill of his skin, though, and reached out to pull him closer. Kurt didn't protest. He tucked his head under Blaine's chin, fingers splayed on Blaine's chest, trying to absorb some of his warmth. Blaine wrapped his arms around him and rubbed his back slowly.

"You feel like an icicle, Angel," he murmured apologetically.

Kurt shivered and curled up tighter into Blaine's embrace. "Not complaining…"

Blaine kissed the top of his head and closed his eyes.

"Will you sing to me?" Kurt requested quietly.

"What do you want me to sing?"

Kurt hummed into his collar bone. "Anything you'd like."

Blaine thought for a moment, never ceasing his slow ministrations up and down Kurt's back, trying to get some heat back into his boyfriend's cool skin. Then he broke the silence of the room. "_Blackbird singing in the dead of night…Take these broken wings and learn to fly…_"

…

He awoke feeling more refreshed than he had in years.

The regular morning grogginess was still present, of course, but he felt much more invigorated, as if he'd already had a cup or two of coffee.

Speaking of which, the familiar smell was wafting from another part of the apartment. Since he was once more alone in his bed, he knew who the culprit must be and forced himself up and over to the door. The sunlight streaming in through the living room windows made him wince and blink rapidly until his eyes adjusted.

"Morning, sleepy-head."

He smiled tiredly as Kurt came out from behind the counter and handed him a steaming cup of coffee. He was dressed in the same skinny jeans he'd worn yesterday, but he was now wearing one of Blaine's classier button-ups. The sight did something funny to Blaine's stomach. _He's wearing my clothes._

"You're a god, you know that?" he sighed after the first sip.

Kurt smiled, but it seemed sort of forced. "I- I hope you don't mind, I used your bathroom to take a shower and I borrowed one of your shirts…"

Blaine waved a hand. "No, that's totally fine, you're completely welcome to anything you'd like. Sorry I slept in so late. What time is it?"

"Almost ten."

Blaine's eyebrows rose; normally he was up before nine.

Kurt seemed anxious, biting his lip and studying Blaine closely as if worried he was going to yell at him. Blaine set his mug down on the counter and reached out to cup Kurt's cheek. "Hey, what's wrong? Is everything alright?"

"I- I'm sorry!" Kurt blurted.

Blaine froze. "For what?" he asked, genuinely confused.

"I didn't- I shouldn't have- Last night, I was–" Kurt exhaled in frustration, folding his arms and looking unsure of himself. It was a very odd thing to see; usually Kurt was so confident and at ease. "I'm sorry I keep sending mixed signals. I come over to your apartment but then I fall asleep on the couch and then I sneak into your _bed_ in the middle of the night–"

"Hey, hey!" Blaine soothed, unfolding Kurt's arms and taking his hands. He ducked his head in order to catch Kurt's gaze, and only spoke when he was sure he had Kurt's full attention. "I'm not mad at you, Kurt. It's totally fine. I don't expect anything from you. We'll go at whatever pace is comfortable for both of us, okay? Please don't worry about it. I love- I- I love when we get to spend time together, no matter in what capacity."

Kurt gave him a tentative smile. "I- I feel the same…" He slipped his arms around Blaine's neck, and the musician held him close, reveling in the way their bodies fit together so flawlessly. "If that's the case, then do you think we could maybe do this again sometime?"

Blaine chuckled into the collar of Kurt's – _my_, he corrected – shirt. "Of course."

Just then, Kurt's cell went off. Swearing lightly, he pulled back and retrieved the iPhone from his back pocket. "Yeah, hello?"

"Kurt!" Blaine could hear Mike's muffled voice on the other line. "Where the hell are you? You've got a photoshoot in half an hour! Why aren't you at your apartment?"

"Oh, shit, I'm sorry!" Kurt gasped. "I totally forgot!"

"Where are you?" Mike repeated.

"At- At Blaine's," he said, flustered. He ran to gather up his things. "I- I'm sorry! I'll be there as soon as I can!"

"Hurry!"

The line went dead, and Kurt let out another curse. "Look, Blaine, I'm really sorry but I've got to–"

"Go," he smiled, trying not to let his disappointment show. "I understand. You've got a job to do. I won't keep you from it."

"I…" Kurt was at the door, but he ran back to press a deep kiss to Blaine's lips that made him forget his own middle name. "Thank you, Blaine. I'm sorry."

And with that he was gone, the door slamming behind him in his haste.

The silence echoed around the apartment.

…

They fell into a pattern. When they weren't able to meet up – which was depressingly often, considering both of their busy schedules – they texted and called. Blaine's phone was on him at all times. Even when they couldn't see each other, Kurt was still the first person Blaine talked to when he woke up, and the last voice he heard when he fell asleep. They got into the habit of singing each other to sleep – Blaine more so than Kurt, who was still shy about his voice despite Blaine's encouragement – and Kurt stayed over at Blaine's apartment whenever he could.

"It's closer to Mike's place," was his justification, although really they just wanted to spend another night curled up in each other's arms, exchanging light kisses and words of affection. The bottom drawer of Blaine's dresser slowly began to fill with Kurt's clothing. He loved it.

Then, in the week before Christmas, Blaine received a call from a very frantic Kurt.

"They- The magazine- We're on the- Oh god, Blaine, I'm so sorry! I didn't- This is exactly what–"

"Kurt, Kurt, baby, calm down." He spoke over him, trying to understand what Kurt was babbling about. "Take a deep breath. What's wrong? What happened?"

Kurt did as he was told. "Okay," he said after a pause, sounding much more put-together but still just as panicked. "I need you to go onto _Us Weekly_'s website. There's an- an article. About us."

Blaine's eyes widened. "About us?" he echoed, quickly waking up his laptop and opening a new tab on his browser. "You mean- But how–?"

"No, I mean, not, like, exposing us or anything, just- Just read it."

Kurt stayed on the phone as Blaine found the article in question. The title was "Modern Adonis and His Mystery Man," accompanied with a picture of them sitting in Sabrina's together. He'd seen similar pictures, snapped on cell phones from fangirls and boys wherever they went, but there had never been anything written about them apart from the typical gossip on Tumblr and Twitter. Now there was an actual published article speculating about the true nature of their relationship. Certain lines jumped out at him –

"–beloved model Kurt Hummel, 23, spotted on several occasions in the company of an unknown young man–"

"–Hummel refused to comment–"

"–personal assistant denied any sort of romantic relationship–"

"–appear to be extremely intimate–"

"–insisted that they're 'just friends'–"

Blaine exhaled slowly. "Well, it's not that bad," he tried. "It's all just a bunch of guesswork. There's no real proof of anything."

"Yeah, but…Blaine, I'm just- How can you be so calm about all this? I thought you'd freak out and break up with me!"

Blaine let out a sound halfway between choking and laughing. "Break up with you? Why on earth would I do something silly like that? It doesn't bother me, Kurt. I knew right from the beginning that being associated with one of the most popular models in the country would mean having to deal with a lot of secondhand publicity, no matter what kind of relationship we had. Yeah, it sucks that we have to lie about being together, especially since I care about you so much and I want the whole world to know, but I'm not going to _leave_ you. Not over something like this."

Kurt let out a breathy sigh. "You truly are incredible, Blaine."

"I could say the same about you."

"So we're good?"

"We're very good." He smiled, knowing that Kurt would be able to hear it in his voice. "Whatever happens, Kurt, I want to be with you. If…If, for whatever reason, we go public with this, voluntarily or otherwise, you need to know that I'm not going to run. I understand what I'm getting myself into. So please have more faith in me?"

"I- I do, Blaine," Kurt whispered. "I just- I can't stand the thought of you leaving me. It- It scares me. I have nightmares about the media getting a picture of us kissing or something and attacking us and you getting overwhelmed by it all and breaking up with me and then I have to deal with everything on my own and I don't think I could–"

"Kurt! Relax. I'm here. I'll always be here. That will never happen."

Another long, slow breath. Then, out of nowhere, "I love you, Blaine."

Blaine almost dropped his phone.

_I must have heard him wrong. No way. There's no way Kurt just said that to me. It must have been wishful thinking. Kurt would never–_

"I know it's probably too early to say something like that," Kurt rushed on. "And I hope I didn't just ruin everything, but I- I needed you to know. So…now you do. And, um…yeah. I'll just go now. Bye."

He hung up before Blaine could get his voice back.

Blaine sat there for a full minute, staring into nothingness, trying to regain control over his body and mind. All he could hear was Kurt's soft, sweet voice repeated over and over like a beautiful broken record. _I love you, Blaine. I love you, Blaine. I love you, Blaine._

"I love you, Kurt," he whispered into the unconnected cell phone.

…

On his way to work the next day, Blaine paused as he passed by the Nordstrom store. They'd put up a new poster in the window. Now a giant full-body image of Kurt was staring out at him, clad in a stylish brown overcoat with the collar turned up, eyes glinting in that way they did when he was trying not to laugh. Blaine couldn't help but stop and stare for a moment. _That's my boyfriend. My boyfriend that loves me._ The reality was practically incomprehensible. He doubted he would ever get used to it.

Blaine took a step back and snapped a picture of it with his cell phone. He then sent it to Kurt with the caption, **Guess what beautiful model I get to pass on the way to work every day now!**

Kurt responded almost immediately. **Oh I think I've seen him somewhere before! He looks so familiar…**

Blaine snorted. **Yeah. Isn't he that guy I saw in Us Weekly last week? With that cool spectacular amazing awesome musician fella? Oh, what's his name…**

**Haha! Wow, modest much? ;)**

**As always.** He paused, then sent another one. **Hey, Kurt?**

**Yes?**

**Can I call? Are you busy?**

**No, go ahead.**

So he did. And as soon as Kurt picked up, without any sort of preamble, he blurted, "I love you, too!"

A pause. "You- Oh!" Kurt finally squeaked. "Really?"

Blaine laughed. "Yes, really. I love you, Kurt Hummel. And no amount of sneaking around and lying to the press and hiding our relationship could ever change that. And I want to shout it from the rooftops because it's just so mind-blowing that someone like you would ever be interested in a guy like me, and I want to keep you around for as long as you're willing."

Kurt chuckled lightly. "Get prepared to have me around for quite a while then, Blaine. How does forever sound?"

Blaine beamed. "Sounds perfect."


	12. Chapter 12: Twitter

**Chapter 12: Twitter**

Kurt convinced Blaine to spend the holidays in Ohio with his family.

"I want to introduce you to my dad," he pleaded, putting on that adorable pout he knew Blaine could never resist. "And Carol, and Finn. Well you've met Finn already."

"Do your parents already know about…?"

"Yeah, I told them what the deal is," he assured. "They understand. They won't blab to anyone. Pretty please?"

Blaine laughed. "Well how can I say no when you ask so nicely?"

Kurt squealed and clapped his hands, appearing to regress in age about ten years. He threw his arms around Blaine's neck in his excitement. "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! It's going to be so much fun!" He drew back, suddenly somber. "Wait…But what about your family? Surely they'll want you to spend the holidays with them. They live in Ohio, too, right? We can visit them if you'd like–"

Blaine kissed his worries away. "I may go see them while we're up there, yeah, but…It would probably be best if I went alone. Not because I don't want to introduce you or anything," he quickly added, knowing what Kurt would immediately presume, "because I definitely want to. It's just…I don't know if they're trustworthy enough to keep their mouths shut, to be completely honest."

"Oh," Kurt breathed. "Alright then. That's fine." He smiled easily, settling back down into Blaine's side, index finger tracing patterns across the musician's torso. "Shame, though. I would have liked to know what kind of people raised such an incredible man as you."

"You're going to be the sole reason for my big head," he laughed, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, you can't give them very much credit; they weren't around very often. Their jobs kept them traveling most of the time. When I was younger Coop took care of me, but when he went off to college…Then it was just me."

Kurt's gaze turned solemn. His finger stilled on Blaine's chest. "That's…Weren't you lonely, though?"

Blaine shrugged. "I had my friends over a lot, and it was nice to be able to practice my music without anybody in the house telling me to be quiet. It only ever really bothered me during holidays, when everyone else was busy with their families. That's when the house felt the emptiest."

Kurt draped his legs over Blaine's lap – a common position for them when they were alone together like this. "Is that why you don't mind me invading your apartment all the time?"

Blaine laughed. "No, I don't mind you invading my apartment because I _love_ you. You're always welcome here."

Kurt's finger on his chin guided him in for a kiss, and Blaine went willingly. Before it could grow into anything more heated however, Blaine's phone went off, and he sighed in exasperation.

"It's Wes," he muttered when he checked the caller ID. "I swear that guy must have a sensor that tells him when to call at the worst times."

"Better answer it," Kurt advised. "Besides, I enjoy hearing from your friends. They're quite entertaining."

"If by entertaining you mean annoying and childish," Blaine half-joked. But he still answered the call. "Hello?"

Wes's voice exploded out of the phone, nearly making him drop it. "You were in _Us Weekly_! How the hell could you not _tell_ us, you jerk?"

"Blaine Anderson you are in _so_ much trouble!" David's voice chimed in. "I am _this_ close to coming over there and demanding an immediate explanation! But since Wes and I are currently at work, we'll just have to do this over the phone."

"Why wouldn't you tell us, man?"

"We knew you and Kurt hung out but we didn't realize you guys were _that_ close! I'm deeply offended that you would keep something like this from us!"

"Is it true? Are you guys together? Because if you are I'm going to have to personally–"

"Can I talk now?" Blaine cut in. Kurt was muffling his laughter in a pillow. There was a reluctant pause from the other end of the line. "Can I trust you guys not to tell a soul what I'm about to tell you?"

"Oh my god, it's true!" Wes shrieked.

"Yes, yes, you can totally trust us," David rushed to assure. Blaine could easily picture them bouncing around the broom closet at work, unable to contain themselves.

Blaine exchanged a glance with Kurt, who shrugged in a why-not kind of gesture. Blaine grinned. "It's true. Kurt's my boyfriend."

The unmanly squeals he heard coming down the line nearly split his ear, and sent Kurt into hysterics. "But- But the article said Kurt denied it!" David pointed out after a minute or so, still a little breathless.

"We decided not to go public yet. It would just…complicate things. So you two _really_ need to keep this to yourselves, alright? Promise?"

"Oh, definitely," Wes swore.

"Absolutely."

"Thanks, guys." His hand came to rest on Kurt's knee, and the model smiled fondly at him.

"But you'll hook us up, right?" David added.

A laugh was startled out of him. "I'm sorry?"

"Dude, you're dating one of the biggest names in the business," Wes said slowly, clearly, as if speaking to a small child. "You have access to all the exclusive parties and the hotshot celebrities now. As your two best friends, I think it's only fair that you share the benefits with us."

Blaine snorted. "I told you guys before, I'm not using Kurt's fame like that. And same goes for you two."

"But Blaine–"

"No. If Kurt invites you guys to a show or something, that's fine, but I'm not gonna let you leech off him. Besides, as far as the media knows, _we're not together_, remember?"

"Oh. Right. Just friends. But don't you, _as a friend_, get to–"

"Stop! No more mooching, okay?"

A very dramatic, synchronized sigh broke out. "Your stupid uptight moral code is a total buzz-kill, dude."

He laughed, exchanging a wink with Kurt. The tall brunet got to his feet and made his way to the kitchen. "Hot cocoa?" he mouthed over his shoulder.

"Perfect," he mouthed back. Then, into the phone, "Look, I should go. And you guys should get back to work. I'll talk to you later, alright?"

"Whoa, why the rush?" said David.

"Wait, wait…Are you with Kurt right now?" Wes gasped.

"Am I with Kurt right now?" he repeated back for Kurt's sake, who glanced up from behind the counter and grinned. "I don't know, let me ask…"

He held up the phone in the direction of the kitchen, and Kurt called out calmly, "Hello, Wes, David. Good to hear from you."

"Holy shit," David muttered. There was some clattering on the other end. Blaine imagined them fumbling with the cell phone, having a silent argument with their eyes.

"H-Hey, Kurt!" Wes greeted after a moment. "Uh, sorry, we'll just leave you two alone now. Sorry for, um, interrupting…"

"That's quite alright. Goodbye!"

Blaine laughed and ended the call on his friends' screams. "I'm sorry about them. They're insane."

"But you love them," Kurt said knowingly, stirring the hot chocolate mix into the steaming mugs of milk.

"It's a curse," he sighed theatrically.

As Kurt handed him his hot cocoa and sat down next to him on the couch with his own, he began discussing their holiday plans, and Blaine just smiled into his drink and listened, loving that Kurt was discussing _their_ near-future. He was happy to do whatever Kurt wanted, just so long as they did it together.

…

Kurt gave a little laugh, eyes locked on his phone.

"What?" Blaine glanced over and saw that his boyfriend was on Twitter.

"You're following me?" He looked up at Blaine, the amusement clear in his misty teal eyes.

Blaine shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

Kurt rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Because you're usually _with_ me anyway. Or I'm texting you. There's nothing new you could possibly learn from my tweets. But I suppose I'll have to follow you back now…" His fingers flew over the touch screen.

"You really don't have to. I don't tweet all the much. Just talking to my students a bit about lessons and performances they're in…" Kurt leaned over then, holding out his phone in front of them. "Uh, Kurt?"

"Smile."

He obeyed, and the sound of the camera on Kurt's phone going off filled the backseat.

"Kurt, what do you think you're–?"

Kurt shushed him, a playful smile on his face as he fiddled a bit more on his phone. Finally, he locked the screen and turned to Blaine. "Check your Twitter feed."

Frowning suspiciously, he pulled out his own phone and went onto his rarely used Twitter app. It was easy to find what Kurt was referring to – the picture of the two of them, taken on Instagram, with the tweet, "_Off to the airport now! Headed home for the holidays. Have a lovely xmas, hanukkah, kwanzaa, etc. everyone!_"

"Oh my god," he half-gasped, half-laughed. "You're just _trying_ to drive your fans insane, aren't you? Now the rumors are _really_ going to spread."

Kurt shrugged. "We're not even touching. There's absolutely no evidence people can take from that tweet. Just more speculation."

Blaine chuckled. "You like living on the edge."

"Total dare-devil."

"You have a death wish."

"I'm courageous."

"_Out_rageous."

"Risk-taker."

"I'll settle with that." He pressed a kiss to Kurt's cheek and pulled him closer, although their seatbelts sort of restricted their movement. Mike glanced at them in the rearview mirror as they arrived at JFK.

"Alright Kurt, now remember, there will probably be some paparazzi in the front, so make sure you two don't–"

"I know, I know," Kurt cut in. "We'll be perfect little angels and save the hot make-out session for when we're alone. I swear on my Prada collection."

Mike pointedly ignored the mention of a make-out session, but seemed mollified nonetheless. Ever since he'd been informed of Kurt and Blaine's secret relationship, he'd been bending over backwards trying to keep the media from finding out anything that could potentially expose them as 'more than friends.'

"Being your P.A. is literally the most challenging thing I've ever had to do in my entire life," he'd grumbled on multiple occasions.

"You wouldn't have it any other way," Kurt would wheedle. "I keep your life interesting!"

"You keep my life stressful."

"Yeah, same thing."

When they got out of the car, there was indeed a handful of microphones and cameras awaiting them. Or awaiting Kurt, more specifically. Blaine just continued on towards the doors as Kurt had taught him. Head down, avoid eye contact, just get from point A to point B.

An overly made-up woman shoved a mic in his face. "What's your name? What's your relationship with Kurt Hummel? Are you spending the holidays together?"

"I- I'm just a friend," he said with a nervous smile. A bright flash in his face made him blink. "I'm not that interesting, I promise."

Kurt guided him onwards. "Please let us through, we have a plane to catch," he called authoritatively. When they finally got inside, away from the onslaught of questions, he let out a long sigh. "Sorry about that. I know it's probably really–"

"Hey," Blaine stopped him. "What did we talk about? No apologizing."

"Right. Sorry."

Blaine smiled up at him before returning his attention to the security line. They were still in public, after all; he couldn't kiss him like he wanted to. Like he _always_ wanted to.

They got to their gate and onto the plane and into their seats without any further trouble. One of the teenage girls that passed them on her way down the aisle did a double-take, but luckily said nothing.

"Guess what her newest tweet is going to be?" Kurt murmured under his breath.

"'Oh-em-gee, on the same flight as at-Kurt Hummel'?" Blaine teased.

Kurt nudged him playfully with his shoulder. "It's so strange. Sometimes I wonder if it's all just some big mistake."

Blaine chuckled. "Trust me, it's not a mistake. Everyone loves you because you're sweet and humble and gorgeous and the kind of guy everybody wants to be friends with. Or in my case…" He glanced around before sneaking a quick kiss to Kurt's forehead. "A little bit more than friends."

The supermodel grinned, eyes shining bright like sunlight glinting off the surface of a lake. "Well, lucky for you, I want to be a little bit more than friends with you, too."

Kurt fell asleep on Blaine's shoulder within half an hour of take-off. Blaine followed soon after. When they awoke again, the captain was announcing their decent towards the Cleveland airport.


	13. Chapter 13: Family

**Chapter 13: Family**

"What if they don't like me?"

Kurt gave a startled laugh, but stopped when he caught Blaine's genuinely worried expression. "Oh, sweetie, no! They could never _not_ love you. Just be your regular charming self and you'll win them over in no time."

Blaine took a deep breath and nodded. "I'd hoped the whole meeting-the-parents nerves would go away after high school."

"Sorry, I think that sort of feeling is an ageless thing." He turned onto a new street and added, "We're almost there."

"Will any of your other family members be there?"

"No. Christmas has always been a very immediate-family sort of deal." He glanced over at Blaine and smiled encouragingly. "Just wait until Thanksgiving, though! That's when _everybody_ shows up. The number of attendees suspiciously grew around the same time I landed my first cover page of _Vanity_…Odd how that worked out." He winked.

Blaine smiled back. Because Kurt had just implied that he wanted to keep Blaine around for quite a while. Thanksgiving wasn't for another eleven months, after all.

"Here we are. Home sweet home!"

He held his breath as Kurt pulled their rented car up in front of a nice white house and parked. He then cut the engine and slid his hand into Blaine's, and Blaine held on for dear life. "Blaine, relax," Kurt coaxed patiently, an undercurrent of mirth evident in his voice. "You have absolutely _nothing_ to worry about. They're not dragons or anything. I really want you to have a good time."

Blaine smiled softly. "I know. I'm sorry, I'm making a big deal out of nothing." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, let's go."

Kurt grinned and leapt out. The front door was thrown open, and Finn barreled down the steps like an overgrown child. "Kurt!" he called excitedly, sweeping his step-brother up into a great big hug that knocked him right off his feet.

"Finn!" Kurt gasped, laughing. "Hi, you!"

The taller man set him down. "I missed you, bro."

"We saw each other just last week."

"Yeah, but now it's Christmas," Finn pointed out. He then loped around to the trunk and began helping Blaine extract their luggage, most of which was Kurt's. "Hey, man, good to see you again. Glad you're staying with us. This is gonna be awesome!"

"Thanks," he grinned. "Is Rachel joining us?"

"Nah, she's in Cancun with her dads. She invited me to come with, but I wanted to spend the holidays with my family. I didn't get to last year, and I missed it…New York's cool and all but–"

"Kurt!"

An older man appeared on the porch. Blaine recognized him instantly from Kurt's pictures as Burt Hummel. He tensed. _This is it._

"Dad!" Kurt cried, dropping his suitcase and running into his father's awaiting arms. Burt swung him around in a circle, rumbling with laughter as he held his son close.

"Oh goodness, I've missed you so much, kiddo!"

"I'm not a kid," Kurt reminded, but it sounded weak, like a common old retort. He drew back and tugged him towards Blaine. "Dad, I have someone you need to meet. This is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is my dad, Burt."

Blaine stuck out a hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Oh, none of this 'sir' nonsense," the older man winked, taking Blaine's proffered hand and shaking it. His grip was firm, but not crushing. "Call me Burt. It's good to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you. Seems like you're all Kurt talks about these days."

"Dad!" Kurt hissed, blushing.

Blaine laughed. "I hope it's all good things?"

"Of course." Kurt picked up his suitcase again and led Blaine to the door, through which Finn was already disappearing with the rest of their bags. Burt followed with a cheerful smile on his face. _So far so good._

"Is that you, Kurt?" a sweet, feminine voice floated down the hall to them as they entered the house.

"Yeah, he's here!" Finn answered for him. "Him and Blaine!"

Carol emerged from the kitchen – or what Blaine assumed to be the kitchen, considering the mouthwatering smell wafting from that direction – and automatically swept Kurt up in a hug. "Oh, sweetie, it's so good to have you back home again!" She released him and turned to beam at Blaine. "And you must be the boyfriend we keep hearing about."

"Blaine Anderson," he nodded, holding out his hand once more. "Pleased to meet you."

"Oh, well aren't you a darling?" she gushed, ignoring his hand in favor of a hug. He accepted it easily, although secretly a little startled. His own parents had never been this affectionate, especially with people they'd just met. It was a nice change.

"Dinner will be in ten minutes or so," Carol told the two arrivals. "Kurt, show Blaine to the guest room, won't you?"

"Yeah, sure. Come on, Blaine." He grabbed the musician's hand and dashed up the stairs. He pointed out the rooms as they went – his parents' room, Finn's room, the bathroom, his room, and finally the guest room, which, conveniently enough, was located right next to Kurt's.

"So this is where you'll be staying." Kurt gestured around the bare but beautifully designed room. He perched himself on the edge of the bed and turned to gage Blaine's reaction, biting his lip, and Blaine could tell he was actually a little worried.

"It's lovely," he assured honestly.

"Really? I- I know it's pretty small, but you can–"

"It's lovely," he repeated firmly, lowering himself down onto the bed next to him. "Thank you for letting me come here with you, Kurt. Really. It's…I can't even tell you how glad I am I get to spend Christmas with you and your family. So you don't need to worry, alright? I'd be satisfied with sleeping in a_ closet_, just so long as I got to share this time with you."

Kurt smiled affectionately at him and leaned in. Blaine met his lips with his own, and the familiar spark jolted through his whole body from the touch.

"We should, um, go get our bags," Kurt murmured, and it made Blaine glow inside from the realization that _he_ was the one that got Kurt so flustered and scatter-brained with something as simple as a kiss.

"Mhmm." But he recaptured Kurt's lips instead, his hand sliding up to brace the nape of his neck.

"Blaine," Kurt groaned. "Bags!"

Blaine laughed into his mouth and pulled away. "Alright. Let's go."

He pretended not to notice Kurt's mock-glare as they stood and headed towards the door.

…

Dinner was superb; conversation flowed seamlessly amongst them, and the food was fantastic. Blaine was taken aback at first by how close Kurt and his father were. To be that close with a parent was not something he had ever experienced. He found himself enamored by their relationship, baffled by their level of comfort and ease with one another. If he was honest with himself, he might have even been a little jealous.

"Oh, Blaine, they absolutely love you," Kurt gushed, practically bouncing on his bed. The two of them had retired to Kurt's bedroom after offering to help with dishes and being gently shot down by Carol.

"Really?"

"Yes, really!" Kurt laughed, rolling his eyes at Blaine's insecurity. He reached down and began to play with the curls at the back of Blaine's neck. He hummed lightly in approval. "I could see that Dad nearly wanted to adopt you the moment you mentioned college football, and you won Carol over when you complimented her lasagna. And as long as you don't give Finn any reason to hate you, I'd say you're pretty much set for life."

_For life._

The musician tugged gently at Kurt's unbuttoned collar, bringing him down so their bodies were flush against one another, lips exploring, all conception of the outer world lost on them.

"Blaine," Kurt murmured against his lips.

"Ssh…I know." His mouth moved down Kurt's neck, across his collar bone. Clothing was shed, new skin was exposed, their heartbeats filled the room.

Blaine never did make it back to the guest room that night.

…

Blaine took their rented car the next day and drove over to Westerville to visit his family, and when he returned in the evening Kurt was waiting anxiously on the porch for him, cheeks flushed from the cold and eyes shining with worry. Blaine had hardly reached the front steps when Kurt was upon him.

"How'd it go?" he asked hesitantly. Blaine took a shaky breath as he tried to decide how much to reveal. Just when he thought he'd gotten a hold of himself, though, he made the mistake of glancing up into his boyfriend's tender gaze, and just like that, he crumbled.

Kurt caught him easily as his knees gave out, arms coming to wrap tightly around him like a blanket of protection from the rest of the world. Which was exactly what he needed right now.

"Ssh, baby, it's okay. What happened? What's wrong?" Kurt's voice was gentle, soothing, undemanding.

Blaine fingers curled themselves into Kurt's sweater. "Kurt," he choked out, hardly intelligible through the fabric he'd buried his face in. "It was _awful_. Th-They…I can't believe they would s-say that…I don't even…"

Kurt shushed him again and stroked his hair and rubbed his back and whispered reassurances and sweet nothings in his ear and just held Blaine together as he felt himself shatter. It was like Kurt was the only real thing in the world at the moment. He was everything Blaine needed. Everything he could have ever asked for, and then some.

"I love you, Kurt," he finally gasped, voice quavering but determined. "I love you so damn much! And nothing will ever change that."

Kurt blinked, taken aback by this sudden declaration, but then his expression softened and he leaned down to press his lips tenderly to Blaine's, warming the musician from the inside out with his affection. "I love you too, Blaine."

Such a simple phrase, yet so extraordinarily powerful.

"Come inside," Kurt suggested. "We'll get you warmed up and then we can talk."

"N-No, I don't want your family to see me like this," he said, hastily brushing tears from his face. "I'm a mess right now." He gestured to the swing-bench on the porch and added, "Could- Could we maybe sit out here? Just for a bit?"

Kurt smiled. "Of course." He pressed a kiss to Blaine's cheek. "But at least let me make us some hot cocoa. I'll be right back."

Five minutes later, the two of them were cuddled up on the frigid swing, attempting to fight off the chill of the snowy night with steaming mugs of hot cocoa. Kurt kept one arm around Blaine's shoulders, but he didn't pressure him to speak. He seemed to be waiting for Blaine to collect himself. Kurt's foot on the floor rocked them gently, back and forth, back and forth.

"They called me an utter failure."

A sharp intake of breath came from beside him, but Blaine went on before Kurt could comment.

"They- My parents never really approved of my dreams to get into the music business. Said it wasn't a _real_ job. Wanted me to be a lawyer, like Dad, or a doctor, like Cooper, or an accountant, like Cooper's wife…" He gave a bitter laugh. "Do you know what my mother asked me at dinner? She asked me if I'd met a 'nice New York girl' yet."

Kurt bit his lip, clearly holding back multiple retorts to that. "And what did you tell her?"

Blaine shrugged one shoulder. "That yes, I'd met a special someone, and yes, we're very happy together, and yes, _he's_ a nice New York man. They…" He swallowed past the lump in his throat that hadn't left him since dinner, which he hadn't stayed long enough to finish. "They didn't like that very much. My father asked me why I couldn't be more _normal_."

"Oh, Blaine…" He heard the soft thunk of ceramic on wood, and then Kurt's other arm was wrapped around him as well, a cocoon of warmth and love and comfort that he never wanted to leave. "You know they're wrong, right? There is absolutely _nothing_ wrong with you, Blaine Anderson."

Blaine felt a small smile flicker across his face. "I know," he whispered. "Because…The way I feel about you…There's no way there could be anything wrong with that."

He saw Kurt's eyes – a silvery blue at the moment – get overly bright. His arms tightened around Blaine's torso, and he buried his face in Blaine's curls. "Precisely."

They sat in silence for a little while, absently sipping their hot cocoa and gazing out over the white lawn, which sparkled in the moonlight. Then Blaine spoke again.

"They talked a lot about Cooper. _Compared_ the two of us, basically – showed me why he was a much better son." Kurt scoffed. "There's a ten year difference between us, so we were never very close, but he's always been more supportive of me than our parents. Although that's probably because he's the favorite child that can do no wrong." There was no bitterness in his tone; he was simply stating a fact. "Anyway, he and his wife are staying in California for the holidays this year, which I'm sure just made _my_ visit all the worse for them. Hoping for one son, getting the other."

"They're fools." Blaine could tell that much harsher, more colorful descriptions were on the tip of Kurt's tongue, and he couldn't help but laugh a tiny bit.

"Glad you think so."

"I just- I can't believe- How can they not see how _amazing_ you are? Your studio is going great, everyone loves you, you've got the voice of a sex god and more musical talent than all of Manhattan combined; you're sweet and kind and thoughtful and friendly and–"

"You're missing the most important thing."

"Huh?"

Blaine kissed him on the tip of his nose. "I've got the most incredible boyfriend on the face of the planet. And if I wasn't worried they'd go blab to every media outlet they could think of, I'd rub it in their faces."

Kurt chuckled. "You're so silly."

"I'm adorable."

"That, you are." A real kiss this time, but then he shivered.

"We can go inside now, if you'd like," Blaine offered, quickly finishing off his drink.

"You sure? You're alright?"

Blaine nodded and got to his feet, shivering as well when the sudden gush of cold air enveloped him. He wished he was back in Kurt's arms. He sniffed, ran his hands underneath his eyes. "How do I look? Any leftover tears?"

Kurt glanced over his face, then smiled. "Nope, you're good. Nobody would ever be able to tell."

"Thank you."

Kurt paused, hand still outstretched for the doorknob. "For what?"

"For- For letting me break down like that on you. For being there for me when I really needed you. For being _you_."

The model grinned. "Well, you're going to have to start thanking me a lot more often, then, because I'm _me_ quite a lot of the time."

Blaine laughed as well. "That's the plan."


	14. Chapter 14: New Years Eve

**Chapter 14: New Year's Eve**

Christmas passed in a blur of ribbons and wrapping paper and eggnog and enough food to feed an army. Since Kurt was so careful about his own weight, he seemed to decide that Blaine should eat all the sweets he was keeping himself from having. Which meant Blaine could nearly always be found with one of the latest treats in hand. Not that he was complaining, of course; Kurt and Carol's baking was phenomenal. But he made sure that Kurt had some as well, despite his protests.

"I'm going to get fat!" Kurt pretended to whine, taking a tiny bite out of the sugar cookie Blaine was holding up insistently in front of his face. "I'm going to get fat and Mike will yell at me and it will be entirely _your_ fault, Blaine Anderson." But he was smiling as he said it.

"These are your cookies, you deserve to have at least one," Blaine reasoned. "Besides, it's the holidays! Surely you can cut yourself some slack."

"I feel like I cut myself some slack whenever we eat together," he said suspiciously. Still, he ate the rest of the cookie from Blaine's hand without any further protest. Which may or may not had to do with the puppy eyes Blaine was using on him.

…

Finn flew back with them to New York the night before New Year's Eve. He was in the seat directly behind Kurt's, and he proved to be even worse than Mike when it came to making sure the two of them weren't overly affectionate with one another in public.

"Hey!" he hissed yet again, kicking Kurt's seat when he tried to rest his head on Blaine's shoulder.

Kurt gave him a poisonous glare through the crack between their seats, and Blaine had to hold in a laugh when Finn seemed to deflate in on himself. "Relax, Finn," Kurt hissed. "Nobody's even watching. Everyone's asleep. Now would you kindly mind your own business?"

Finn pouted, but let them be. Kurt pointedly returned his head to Blaine's shoulder, and Blaine hummed happily. Despite their near-constant bickering, he could tell they really did love each other. It was the kind of brotherly affection Blaine envied, the kind he sometimes wished he could have shared with Cooper.

"So did you have a nice time?" Kurt murmured sleepily, adjusting his blanket over his long legs. "I mean, apart from your parents being…Well, you know."

"It was extraordinary," assured Blaine. "I was with _you_, wasn't I?" This earned him a hum of approval. "Honestly, it was the best Christmas I've ever had, hands down. So thank you, for bringing me with."

Kurt opened his eyes and tilted his head back enough to press his lips to that particular spot on the underside of Blaine's jaw. Finn coughed none-too-subtly behind them. They both ignored him. "Thank _you_ for coming. I'm really glad I was able to show you off to my family. It was nice to see you guys interacting. And my dad absolutely _adores_ you."

"Seriously?"

"Mhmm," Kurt grinned, closing his eyes once more. "When we were saying goodbye, he pulled me aside and basically gave you the Burt Hummel Stamp of Approval. You should be very proud of yourself."

"Oh yes, extremely accomplished."

Kurt yawned. Blaine kissed the top of his head. (Finn grumbled something about 'obvious as neon signs' behind them.) "Go to sleep now, Angel. I'll wake you when we're about to land."

Kurt did not need to be told twice.

…

They'd decided to spend New Year's Eve together, alone, at Blaine's place. Kurt had been invited to an exclusive party by the hostess herself, Tyra Banks, but he'd politely declined the offer, against Mike's advice.

"I want to spend tonight with Blaine, not a bunch of snobby A-listers who are going to get completely wasted and probably end up as the newest scandal in the tabloids," he'd said firmly over the phone, his voice never conveying any of what Blaine was currently doing to his neck. The moment he'd hung up, though, he'd paid Blaine back for it, and the musician had definitely not complained.

They were curled up under the afghan on the couch, an open champagne bottle and two glasses on the coffee table in front of them, a fire crackling in the tiny fireplace and the coverage of the crowds at Time Square on the television screen, when there came a sudden knock on the door. No, not knocking…_pounding_. It sounded like half a dozen fists were trying to smash their way inside.

"Oh my god!" Kurt squeaked, jumping at the cacophony erupting on the other side of the apartment. Blaine quickly leapt up and hurried to the peephole. He was torn between laughing and sighing at the sight that greeted him. He opened the door and Nick and Jeff promptly tumbled face-first inside, sprawled across the doorway and giggling drunkenly. Wes had an arm thrown around David's neck, beaming widely. Luckily, David still seemed to be fairly sober.

"Blainey!" Nick cried from the floor, using Blaine's pant leg to hoist himself up, swaying dangerously when he finally got to his feet. He then helped Jeff up as well.

"We've missed you, Mr. Music Man!" the blond man accused. He attempted to jab Blaine in the chest, but missed and nearly fell over again.

"You two live in Baltimore," Blaine reminded them patiently, ushering them all inside so they wouldn't disturb the neighbors.

Kurt stood up from the couch, studying the new arrivals with surprise. "Who is this?"

"Kurt!" Wes broke in before Blaine could answer. "Kurt, oh my god, hi buddy! Hi! Remember me? Hey, it's Kurt Hummel! Hi!"

David rolled his eyes and clapped a hand over Wes's mouth so he didn't go on.

"Kurt, you've already met Wes and David," Blaine re-introduced. "And these two are friends of ours from high school – Jeff Sterling and his boyfriend Nick Duval. Guys, this is–"

Nick's eyes grew comically wide when he spotted Kurt. "Holy crap," he interrupted breathlessly. "Jeff! Jeff, baby, it's that model! You know, the one you said was the only exception to our no-threesome rule! Look, look! Oh my god, it's him! Blaine's been keepin' him here this 'ole time!"

Kurt looked both amused and startled. Blaine's face nearly caught fire, and he suddenly became very interested in his kitchen counter. _Oh my god, I cannot believe he just said that out loud to my boyfriend._

"Nah, nah, it's not like that!" Wes slurred, his pompous, superior tone sort of ruined by his intoxication. "He's…Kurt's…Blainey's! He's Blainey's!"

"Why must you use that godawful nickname whenever you guys get drunk?" he grumbled.

"What'dya mean?" Jeff pouted at Wes, ignoring Blaine altogether even though he was currently using the shorter man as a brace to keep himself upright.

"It's a secr't." Wes fumbled over the words. Grimacing at the overhead light fixture, he added, "Why's't gotta be so bright?"

Blaine sighed heavily. "What are you guys doing here, anyway?"

"Blainey!" Nick shouted, wielding to face him, suddenly very serious. "We're on a mission!"

"And what mission would that be?"

"We- We're gonna- gonna make you have lots of funs!"

Blaine frowned. "What are you talking about? I have plenty of fun." He glanced over at Kurt, who raised an eyebrow suggestively. Blaine bit his lip to keep from laughing. "Or do you mean you want me to get as hammered as you guys are?" Because that definitely wasn't going to happen. Blaine knew what a nightmare that would be.

"Oh come _on_!" Nick and Jeff pled. "It'll be great! And we haven't seen you in forever!"

"Thanks, but I think I'll stay here with Kurt. You guys go have a nice time, though. Try not to get so inebriated you can't remember your own addresses. David, I'm assuming you'll look after them?"

"Always," he nodded.

"We're not inebra- inebree-…We're not drunk!" Wes insisted.

"Yes, you are," Blaine and David both said.

"Now run along." Blaine began ushering them back towards the door. "Drink each other under the table or whatever it is you whackjobs think is 'fun.'"

"He wan's private sexy times with Kurtsie," Wes whispered to Nick and Jeff, loud enough for everyone to hear him. Jeff and Nick's eyes grew wide, and they nodded seriously. David snickered. Blaine wanted the floor to swallow him whole.

"Hey, Blainey," Jeff frowned. "Why- Why won't you lemme rec- ric- record you? You gotta pretty voice…Pretty Blainey voice…"

Blaine took a deep, calming breath. "I already told you, Jeff, I'm quite content with my music lessons. Thanks, but no thanks." Jeff shrugged and hooked an arm around Nick's neck. David nodded goodbye to Kurt and Blaine before guiding the others out into the hall.

"Nice meeting you!" Kurt called as Blaine closed the door. Wes's giggle could be heard from the end of the corridor just as the lock clicked into place. The silence that followed was oddly heavy. Blaine turned back to Kurt, worry etched into his face, praying that Kurt wasn't upset by the interruption. Kurt merely seemed contemplative, though.

"I- I promise, they're usually quite peaceful."

"What was he talking about?" asked Kurt. "Recording you?"

"Oh, Jeff? He's a music producer. He, uh, he's sort of been bugging me about professionally recording some of my songs for a while now. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Kurt echoed incredulously. He crossed the room to stand in front of Blaine and took his hands in his own. "Blaine, you're _incredibly_ talented! And the whole world should know it. Why wouldn't you take him up on an offer like that?"

Blaine raised their interlocked hands to kiss Kurt's knuckles. "Thank you. But I don't think the recording life is really for me."

Kurt knew that wasn't it, though. Blaine _knew_ Kurt knew. He ducked his head to catch Blaine's eye. "Blaine? Blaine, sweetie, what is it? There's something you're not telling me…Please don't start keeping things from me."

Blaine nodded, mostly to himself, before taking a deep breath and leading Kurt back to the couch. "I just…If I were to become successful – not that I presume I _would_ be–"

"Of course you would," Kurt cut in. He said it as if there was no other option.

Blaine smiled in thanks. "Well, if that happened, there would be even _more_ attention on us. More questions, more cameras, more lying, more chance of getting caught, more secrecy. And I don't want to take that risk. We're already pushing it as it is. It seems like there's a new article about us every week speculating about our relationship."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt murmured. He drew Blaine closer, into his arms. "No, baby, you can't think like that! I mean, I'm so grateful that you would be so considerate, but you should _never_ hold yourself back because of me. If- If you accepted Jeff's offer, and you did become famous – and I know you would – and we got even more publicity, then we'd handle it. We'd deal with it. _Together_. Okay?"

Blaine's answer was to kiss him.

Kurt smiled against his lips. "Glad to know we're on the same page here."

"I'll think about it," Blaine allowed, shifting closer until their bodies were completely pressed together, hand trailing up Kurt's waist.

"That's all I ask."

They stayed tangled up on the couch for the rest of the evening until the countdown began on the television.

Five. "To us," Kurt toasted, raising his champagne flute.

Four. "To us," Blaine agreed happily, clinking their glasses together. "And to many more in the future."

Three. They drank to it, eyes never leaving one another's over the rim of their glasses. The alcohol was mixing with Blaine's natural high from being around Kurt, making him positively euphoric.

Two. "I love you," Kurt whispered, hardly audible above the ruckus coming from the television, yet Blaine could still hear him loud and clear. It was just the two of them, alone in their own world, where nothing else mattered.

"I love you too, Angel."

_One._


	15. Chapter 15: Purpose

**Chapter 15: Purpose**

Blaine's first new student of the year was a familiar face, to his pleasant surprise.

"Oh, I remember you!" he said cheerfully. "At the concert in the park…"

Emily's face lit up in recognition. "Yeah! You were with Kurt Hummel!"

Her mother – a tall, regal, willowy blonde woman – frowned ever so slightly at the model's name. "How lovely. Now, I've heard your the one to go to for music lessons?"

He gave his most welcoming smile. "That's me! I mean, as long as it's for vocals, or for an instrument listed in the window. Is it for–?"

"Piano!" Emily proclaimed excitedly.

Blaine laughed at her enthusiasm, but her mother pursed her lips. "Emily, don't interrupt," she chastised. Then, to Blaine, "I'm sorry about her. She would like to take up piano – it's her New Year's Resolution." It was clear from her tone that she wasn't very pleased with her daughter's choice.

"That's great!" he enthused, grinning down at Emily. She smiled shyly in return.

"I don't have much time," said the older woman. "Let's discuss dates and prices, Mr. Anderson."

He worked to keep his expression neutral. It was obvious dealing with this woman would try his patience. "I'm sorry, I don't believe I caught your name…"

She held out a bony hand ladened with gaudy rings. "Vivian Knox."

He smiled as he took it in his own, careful not to reveal his contempt towards her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

Emily then stuck out her own small hand. "I'm Emily Knox!" she chirped.

"He knows who you are," Mrs. Knox snapped.

Blaine made a point of shaking Emily's hand anyway.

…

When he returned home that evening Kurt was already there, settled on the couch with his laptop, a half-empty mug of tea in front of him on the coffee table.

"Oh, hi!" he greeted warmly, standing to kiss Blaine hello. He helped him out of his thick snow-covered overcoat. "How were your students today? Did Kim finally hit that high F?"

"She did," Blaine grinned. "And I got a new student." Kurt made a sound of interest as he wound Blaine's scarf off his neck and hung it up on the rack next to the door. "You know her, actually. Emily Knox, remember her? That little girl who asked for your autograph after the concert in the park so she could give it to her sister for Christmas?"

Kurt smiled at the memory. "Really? Her? Wow, what a small world…" He moved into the kitchen. "What's she learning?"

"Piano. No previous experience, but she picks it up pretty fast, all things considered. And she's _so_ sweet! The exact opposite of her mother." He followed Kurt into the kitchen and added, "You made dinner last night, Angel, I can do it tonight."

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"I'm sure." He gently shooed his boyfriend out of the kitchen, swatting lightly at his ass to make him move. "How does pasta with grilled vegetables sound? With salad and bread for sides?"

Kurt smiled and leaned across the counter for a kiss. "It sounds like you're far too perfect for me."

He laughed. "No, it's definitely the other way around."

This earned him an eye-roll, and another kiss.

…

Halfway through dinner preparation, Kurt set his computer aside and folded his hands in front of him on the counter. "I have a proposal for you."

Blaine's eyes went wide. His hands stilled. _Proposal?_ Trying not to be presumptuous, he asked, "And what might that be?" and then held his breath.

Kurt crossed his legs and leaned forward. "Well, I have a photoshoot in LA coming up."

"Okay…" _Relax. He's probably just going to suggest we go out to dinner when he gets back._

"And I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."

The spoon Blaine had been using to stir the pasta fell into the pot. "Accompany- To California?"

Kurt smiled hesitantly. "Yeah. I- I know it's sort of last minute, but you told me the other day you'd never been to the west coast before so I thought that maybe- I mean, I know you're busy, what with your lessons and all, so I'd totally understand if you couldn't get away, but I just thought I'd at least–"

"I'd love to," Blaine cut him off.

Kurt paused. "Really?"

His genuine surprise made Blaine laugh. "Yes, really! That'd be amazing. When would we–?"

"Whenever," he answered automatically. "The actual shoot is on Saturday afternoon. But we can spend as much time there as you'd like."

Blaine split the pasta onto two different plates and covered the noodles with the grilled vegetables and sauce. "Well, I'll have to check my book and reschedule some lessons, but I don't think it'd hurt to take a few days off. Wes and David are always hounding me about not taking more vacations. And it'd be really nice to spend some time alone with you without having to worry about our friends bursting in."

Kurt nodded in agreement. No doubt he was remembering New Year's Eve. "And your weekends tend to be fairly relaxed." Blaine brought the plates over to the table, and Kurt grabbed the salad and the bread. "You usually just have…Ronni, Jasmine, Marin and Joey, right? And Mac, every other Sunday."

Blaine stared at him for a long moment.

"What?"

He gazed across the table at him fondly. "You know my schedule so well. I love that."

Kurt laughed and served the salad to Blaine, grudgingly giving himself some as well when Blaine stared pointedly at the empty half of his plate. They ate in comfortable silence, only broken when Kurt complimented the vegetables. It was nice. Peaceful. Just the two of them. Blaine treasured moments like this, where they could be together without work or paparazzi getting in the way.

"You should move in."

Kurt's fork clattered against his plate, and Blaine froze._ Did I really just say that aloud? Oh god._ "I- I mean, you're here all the time anyway, and I love getting to come home to you, and you already have a copy of the key, and it would be more convenient for you not to have to drive back and forth to your place so often, and I know it's not the biggest of apartments – nowhere near as big as yours – but it can–"

"Blaine!" Kurt interrupted, laughing. He reached out and covered Blaine's hand with his own. "I accept."

He blinked stupidly at him. "You–?"

"Accept," he repeated patiently. "I would love to move in with you. Hell, I basically already _have._ But it would be nice to finally make it official."

A huge grin broke out across Blaine's face; he probably looked maniacal. "I- Great! Wow, that's awesome!"

Kurt's bell-like laugh was cut off by Blaine's lips attaching themselves to his.

…

The second they stepped off the plane at LAX, they were positively swarmed. Fans, reporters, there was a crowd of them that pounced like tigers the second they spotted the young supermodel.

"Just keep walking," Puck muttered to Blaine, the muscles in his arms flexing as they made their way to the hired car. Puck was the head of Kurt's team of bodyguards, and although Kurt had nothing against him personally – in fact, he quite liked the guy – he tried to avoid using them as much as possible. He'd confessed to Blaine that they made him feel weak and snobby. Blaine was glad Mike had convinced him that Puck's team was necessary for this trip, though; he always felt better knowing there were trained professionals looking out for Kurt's well-being.

"Kurt Hummel!"

"Mr. Hummel, who is this young man you're always seen with?"

"Sir, what's your name?"

"Are you two an item?"

"Mr. Hummel, do you have anything you'd like to say to the readers of _People_ _Magazine_?"

Kurt gave them his most winning smile, the one Blaine knew melted thousands of hearts every time it was used. "I'm happy to be here in sunny LA, and I'm really excited about this photoshoot. I'm honored they asked me. No further comment."

Blaine kept his head down, ignored the questions aimed at him, and allowed Puck to guide him into the backseat of a black window-tinted car. Kurt stayed back to give some autographs to his fans before following him in. He sighed heavily as the car pulled away from the curb.

"You alright?"

He smiled over at Blaine and moved to rest his head on his shoulder. "Yeah, I just wish I could spend more time with the fans rather than warding off the media. I want them to know how much I appreciate them…"

Blaine kissed the top of his head. "Don't worry, I'm sure they do. They understand how busy you are."

Kurt was quiet for a while. Then he sat up and asked, "So, what do you want to do tomorrow? We've got all day to ourselves."

Blaine shrugged. "I'm good with anything. You choose – I trust you."

Kurt grinned wickedly.

…

The bathing suit photoshoot at Bodega Bay Beach that afternoon went on significantly longer than Blaine had expected. Not that he minded, of course; more time spent ogling his boyfriend's bare chest was always welcomed. The thin limbs, the flat stomach, the hint of muscle beneath pale, flawless skin…It was like Blaine's own personal heaven. There were other models there, too, but he hardly even noticed them. He was too busy following individual water droplets with his eyes as they made their way tantalizingly down Kurt's abs.

_God bless California._

Near the end – or what Blaine was pretty sure was the end, since the sun was getting low in the sky – Kurt took a break while a few of other models took their turn. Blaine was about to make his way over, but paused when he realized Kurt was conversing with two male models. Even from a distance Blaine could tell that Kurt was tense, uncomfortable. One – the shorter blond man – seemed flirty and outgoing; the other – a tall, lean brunet – had a permanent sneer on his face.

The brunet said something, and the two of them laughed, but Kurt just gave a strained smile. Not at all authentic. Soon after, he said goodbye and made his way quickly over to Blaine.

"Hey, everything alright?" he asked gently.

Kurt nodded. "Yeah, I- I'm fine. They just…Nothing. It's nothing."

"Hey." Blaine dipped his head, trying to catch his boyfriend's eye. He wanted to pull Kurt into his arms and kiss away the frown between his eyebrows, but they were in public, surrounded by cameras. So he restrained himself. "Come on, this is me. You can talk to me."

"They- Sebastian just said something that sort of got to me," Kurt sighed.

Before Blaine could inquire any further – and potentially plot out this Sebastian guy's demise – Kurt was being called back to duty.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," Kurt assured in a rush, flashing him a tiny smile before dropping his beach towel from his shoulders, handing it off to one of the many assistants running around, and floating back towards the cameras and lights. Blaine watched him go. Even from behind, he could tell that Kurt was still upset.

…

After the shoot was finally over, and the sun was sinking below the watery horizon, and the photographers had packed up and left, Blaine made his way out onto the pier where Kurt was still standing, wrapped up in a fuzzy towel and gazing out across the Pacific Ocean.

"You did really well today," Blaine murmured into his neck, arms slinking around Kurt's thin waist.

Kurt snorted softly, but leaned back into his touch. "Yes, it takes _so_ much talent and effort to stand in front of a camera and look pretty. You must be _so_ proud of me."

Blaine frowned at the biting quality in his boyfriend's voice. He rested his chin on Kurt's shoulder. "What's wrong? Did I miss something?"

Kurt sighed heavily, pulling away from Blaine by stepping forward and turning to face him. Blaine was startled by the worried, lost look in those blue eyes. The confidence that usually radiated from Kurt was gone. "I- I don't know, I just feel like what I'm doing is so _pointless._ People like you use genuine talent to share their passion with the world and help others and they love what they do…But what do I do, Blaine? How am I doing anything important or beneficial or _meaningful_?"

"Kurt, where did all this come from?" demanded Blaine, confusion filling his tone as he took a small step towards him. His arms itched to have Kurt back in them. "You've always been so comfortable with your job and your skill as a model."

"What _skill_?" he scoffed, turning his back to Blaine, arms wrapping around himself and clutching his towel tighter. "It doesn't take skill to be a model. According to Sebastian, all it takes is a few lucky genes and some connections. And maybe balance. _That's it._"

"Don't." Blaine stepped around Kurt so he could make eye contact. He needed Kurt to understand. "Kurt, whatever that idiot Sebastian said, he's _wrong_. Not just anybody can do what you do, and it's _not_ just good looks. That's a factor, sure, but just plain _being attractive_ can't make somebody into a model. You're confident and completely at home in your own skin and I love that about you, and people _see_ that, and they like it. You're not world-famous just because you've got a nice face, Kurt. You rose to the top because you never strayed from who you are; you didn't let anything or anyone control you, and people envy that and admire you because you know who you are and you're not afraid to show it! _That's_ why you're a good model. Because you take what's given to you and you work with it. You don't just make people want to be you, you make people want to get to know you, too. You're relatable."

He took a deep breath. He didn't know if his rambling had made any sense, but Kurt's watery smile said it all.

"I love you, Blaine," he whispered.

Blaine grinned and opened his arms in invitation. Kurt fell into them, and Blaine kissed his temple, wordlessly returning the sentiment. "You're incredible, Kurt," he said firmly, arms locked tight around him. "_Never_ forget that."

Kurt laughed lightly. "And if I do, I'll have you to remind me, right?"

Blaine grinned and kissed him again, this time on the lips. "Always," he promised.

And then, with a sly twinkle in his eyes, Kurt suddenly grabbed Blaine by the arms and tossed him backwards into the water.

He gasped and spluttered, coughing up the salt water he'd inhaled. He was about to yell and chastise him – _seriously, what if I hadn't left my wallet and phone back on the beach?_ – but the laughter rolling off Kurt was too wonderful to interrupt. If it made Kurt laugh like that, so beautiful and carefree, he would let himself get thrown into an ocean every day.

"You're awful!" he cried, unable to hide his own grin.

Kurt dropped the towel from his shoulders. With a childish squeal, he leapt in after him, causing a great splash in Blaine's face. When Kurt resurfaced, they were both laughing. Blaine managed to capture Kurt back into his arms, and with a delighted giggle the model surrendered, relaxing in Blaine's hold, arms linked loosely around his neck, long legs wrapped around his hips. He nuzzled his nose into Blaine's shoulder.

"Thank you, Blaine," he breathed, sounding ten years younger.

"Anytime." And he meant it.

He drew Kurt still closer, tightening his grip on the other man's waist, and the two of them just floated there for an immeasurable amount of time, long after the sun had set, suspended in their own private little world, the swells of the waves rising and falling around them, drifting them here and there.

For a while, they could simply _be_.


	16. Chapter 16: Birthday

**Chapter 16: Birthday**

Blaine's birthday arrived in early February, and Kurt wanted to go all-out.

"No!" Blaine laughed as, for the umpteenth time, he shot down another one of Kurt's extravagant ideas. "Absolutely no exotic animals allowed."

Kurt sighed dramatically. "You're killing me, Blaine. It's not every day you turn a quarter of a century old."

Blaine snorted into his coffee cup. "That makes me sound so ancient…But really, Kurt, you don't need to make a big fuss about it."

Kurt looked horrorstruck. "Don't need to- Blaine, it's a _birthday_, of course we've got to make a big fuss! What, doesn't your family celebrate birthdays? Throw big themed parties? Stuff your face with cake? Attach balloons to every surface?"

The musician chuckled, but shook his head. "Not really, no. I mean, I've been to birthday parties before, but never for myself. My parents were usually gone anyway, so they just transferred some money into my bank account and sent some generic card. And if they _were_ around, we went out to an insanely expensive restaurant. But never any parties. Coop got a few when he was younger I think…"

The look on Kurt's face was a mixture of shock and sympathy. "Oh, Blaine. You're missing out! Birthdays are meant to be a day surrounded by friends and family and love!" He finished off his mocha and added, "That's it, now I _have_ to throw you a party."

"No, you honestly don't," Blaine assured, moving to take his hand before remembering that they were in public and drawing back. "I don't need one. All I care about is having you there. As long as you're with me I couldn't care less what we do."

Kurt smiled warmly at him, and it was clear from the glint in his eyes that they would have kissed then had they not been on a crowded sidewalk. Blaine bit his lip to keep himself grounded. "Alright. Whatever you want, Blaine – it's _your_ birthday. I'm happy when you're happy."

"Here, let's make a deal. You can have full control of the planning" – Kurt's face lit up – "but I get to set the budget."

Kurt looked like Blaine just gave him a cake and told him he couldn't eat it. "But- But! Blaine!"

"That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

The countertenor pouted adorably, but grudgingly gave in. "You drive a hard bargain, Blaine Anderson. Alright, fine. Deal." They shook on it. "But Blaine, it seems sort of silly. I mean, I have plenty of money and I don't mind spending it on you–"

"Yes but that doesn't mean you _should_. I don't want you blowing all of your savings on _my_ birthday party. It's just- I'd feel guilty. I can't help it." He pulled open the door to his studio, but paused and turned back to continue talking with Kurt. "I'm sure you can come up with something both fun and cheap."

"Of course I can. I'll see you at home?" Kurt gave his signature little wink.

"Home…" A stupid grin spread across his face from the word. "Yeah. I'll be back late – David and Wes wanted me to stop by, say hi. You'll probably already be in bed; you have that interview tomorrow morning, right?"

"Yep. Bright and early. I won't bother trying to wake you up," he teased. Blaine laughed. He loved how in sync they were. Kurt knew exactly how to wake Blaine from his typical early-morning daze, and Blaine could spot the signs of Kurt's sleepiness in just enough time to get him to bed before he passed out. They worked well together. They fit, like puzzle pieces.

…

Blaine awoke on his birthday to the sensation of soft, warm lips upon his own. He hummed in approval and kissed back.

"Good morning, Birthday Boy," Kurt's sugary voice murmured, his lips moving to brush feather-light kisses all over Blaine's face and neck.

"My god, I wish every day was my birthday if _this_ is what I get to wake up to," he mumbled happily, prying his eyes open and smiling.

Kurt giggled and tapped the end of his nose with a finger. "I made breakfast." He reached over to the bedside table and carefully transferred the tray onto Blaine's lap, ladened with bacon, toast, eggs benedict, orange juice, coffee, and a thin vase holding a single red rose. The picturesque breakfast-in-bed meal.

"This is incredible, Kurt," Blaine breathed, his morning haze quickly thinning. "How long have you been up?"

"Long enough. Now go on, eat up!"

"Join me?" Blaine lifted his arm in invitation. Kurt crawled over to settle himself into Blaine's side, his head resting on his shoulder, a finger tracing idle patterns into Blaine's bedshirt. They lay there in comfortable silence as Blaine ate, managing to coax a few bites into Kurt as well, until the plates were empty. Kurt took the tray back to the kitchen – leaving the rose on the bedside table at Blaine's request – before suggesting a warm babble bath.

"And then we can head out. I've got an outfit already planned for you."

Blaine smiled. "Don't you always?"

Kurt winked and disappeared into the bathroom, slipping off his shirt as he went. Blaine followed eagerly.

…

Georgia was the barista that morning, and she somehow already had their order ready and waiting for them when they arrived at Sabrina's about an hour later. She gave Blaine a knowing wink and smiled shyly at Kurt.

"Being a world-renowned supermodel has its perks," Kurt murmured when he caught Blaine's baffled expression. He led him to a table in the back, secluded from the others and adorned with a small vase of yellow roses. "Let's just say Mike made quite a few phone calls on my behalf."

Blaine pretended to look worried, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the biscotti halfway to his mouth. Somehow he'd already managed to regain his appetite. "What on earth do you have planned for us, oh Master of Birthday Parties?"

Kurt smiled secretively. "This is only the beginning. Although I promise I didn't go over the budget, and I'm fairly certain everything is legal…"

"Kurt!" he choked.

The countertenor laughed. "I'm kidding, relax!"

"Kurt?"

They glanced up. A young man was standing beside their table, short blond hair peeking out from beneath a very stylish hat, his blue eyes fixated upon Kurt. He seemed somewhat familiar, but Blaine couldn't place him.

"Oh! Hello Chandler," Kurt greeted politely, although Blaine could feel him tense beneath the table. "I wouldn't have expected to run into you here…"

"I could say the same to you." Blaine did not like the gleam in this guy's eyes. "Mind if I join you?"

Kurt looked to Blaine worriedly. Blaine didn't want to be rude, so he reluctantly gave a nod of consent. Kurt smiled faintly and turned back to Chandler. "Sure, pull up a chair." The man looked like it was his birthday as well. It was not lost on Blaine that Chandler's chair was significantly closer to Kurt's than his own. _Watch it, Blondie._

"Oh, Blaine, this is Chandler Kiehl, he's signed with the same modeling agency as me. He was at the photoshoot in LA, remember? Chandler, this is my b- my friend, Blaine Anderson."

"Pleasure to meet you," he lied smoothly.

"Same." Chandler's smile was equally fake. Neither of them made a move to shake hands. "I've seen you in the magazines lately. Seems the public has taken a bit of an interest in you two."

"The media loves to speculate." Kurt waved it off.

"Oh I know how that goes," laughed Chandler. Far too much, in Blaine's opinion; it wasn't _that_ funny. He realized that his grip on his coffee cup was becoming dangerously tight and focused on relaxing his hold. "So what _is_ the deal with you guys anyway?" Chandler added conspiratorially, gesturing between the two of them but only looking to Kurt for the answer.

"Like I said, we're friends," Kurt repeated. "The press just wants to make a big deal out of nothing." Blaine pursed his lips; it most certainly was not _nothing_. "I'm sure it'll all die down soon enough."

"I wouldn't be too sure about that…You've been one of the biggest names in the business for a while now. I'm willing to bet some people are just _dying_ to get some dirt on the Modern Adonis."

"Well, they're going to be disappointed then," Kurt said evenly. "Blaine is not dirt."

"I consider myself quite human, in fact," Blaine agreed. Kurt laughed into the back of his hand. Chandler looked a little put out.

"So Kurt, I hear you're going to be featured in Madame Monette's Spring Fashion Show?"

"Oh, yeah! I'm actually really excited for that; last year's was really fun," Kurt enthused. And just like that they were off, chatting about upcoming shows, gossiping about fellow models, reminiscing about past runways they'd shared. Blaine, meanwhile, put all his effort into remaining seated, resisting the urge to dump his coffee on Chandler. He had never been a particularly territorial kind of guy; he wasn't used to this overpowering desire to grab Kurt and run, to hide him away from the rest of the world. Especially from Chandler.

The blond man's hand came to rest atop of Kurt's the way Blaine's usually did. The sight made his blood boil. "Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?"

"He's busy," Blaine snapped, only barely masking his detestation.

Chandler finally turned to him, and that annoyingly bright smile of his faded from his face. "I didn't realize he needed someone to speak for him."

"I wasn't. But seeing as how we have the same plans…" He couldn't help but feel a little smug. Chandler was clearly disgruntled by this news.

"I'm sure you wouldn't mind changing your plans, letting Kurt hang out with people other than yourself."

"Actually, I would."

Chandler's façade was cracking. "You seem rather possessive for somebody who claims to be 'just friends' with him."

"Maybe I just don't want him to hang out with the likes of _you_." He was not making any attempt at feigning civility anymore.

"You have no control over who Kurt spends his time with!"

"No, but _I_ do." Kurt pointedly slid his hand out from beneath Chandler's. "And I'm afraid I _am_ busy today. With Blaine."

Chandler plastered his grin back onto his face as he turned to Kurt. "Alright. Well, I'll see you later, then." He stood when Kurt stood and hugged him for a beat too long. "We should get together sometime, grab some dinner."

Kurt gave a thin smile. "Goodbye, Chandler."

They only made it about a block before Blaine couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I hate him."

Kurt laughed, but quickly stopped when he realized Blaine wasn't joining in. "Oh, he's not that bad. That's just how he is." He shrugged.

Blaine stopped walking, gaping at him incredulously. "Not that bad? Kurt, he was undressing you with his eyes the entire time! You've got to be kidding me. I just- I can't believe you." He hurried on, needing to move, not caring where he was headed.

"Me?" Kurt demanded, his voice a mixture of surprise, anger, and hurt. "You weren't exactly the most welcoming person either, you know!"

"What- Are you _serious_ right now? You expect me to be _friendly_ to the asshole that's hitting on my boyfriend? I'm a nice guy, Kurt, but I have my limits."

"He doesn't _know_ I'm your boyfriend, though."

"No," he said bitterly. "Nobody knows."

Kurt froze, and Blaine did the same, breathing heavily, almost as shocked as Kurt was by his tone. They stared at one another for a while, not speaking, waiting for the other to react first.

"I…" Blaine deflated. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you. It's not your fault."

"No, no, _I'm_ sorry," Kurt murmured, dropping his head in shame. "I know it's hard on you, to keep up this- this lie. And I just need you to remember that I'm not at _all_ ashamed to be with you. I–" He glanced around to make sure they wouldn't be overheard. "I love you, Blaine. And I'm sorry, I promise that when the time is right–"

"No, ssh, it's okay. I know, I understand. I didn't mean to pressure you; it's a big step, take all the time you need. I was just upset. I'm sorry."

Kurt sighed heavily. "This isn't how I wanted your birthday to go."

Blaine laughed, and the tension in the air between them dissipated. "Then it's a good thing there's still hours left to make up for it and forget it ever happened. I don't want to argue with you. Let's just go do whatever it is you have planned for us today."

The model beamed. "If we weren't in public right now…Jesus."

Blaine smirked, and suddenly Chandler Kiehl was the last thing on his mind.


	17. Chapter 17: Wink

**Chapter 17: Wink**

Blaine flipped through the latest issue of _Ok!_, no longer perturbed when he came across an article about his boyfriend. The accompanying picture was a candid shot of Kurt stepping out of his car, pale skin bathed in rare golden sunlight, his favorite pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes as he chatted on his cell. Blaine remembered that outfit; it was what he'd been wearing when they met up for lunch a few days ago at the French restaurant near his studio. They'd been talking on the phone beforehand about how well Emily's piano lessons were going, which meant that the smile Kurt was wearing in the photo was his doing. The thought made him preen.

The article was mostly just talking about Madame Monette's upcoming Spring Runway, featuring Kurt and a few other big-name models, including Chandler. There was a nice quote from an interview Kurt did earlier in the month with a student at Columbia making a documentary on society's conception of beauty. Only near the end, when his own name jumped out at him, did he sit up and begin to read closely.

_Thousands of fans – girls and boys alike – have professed their love and adoration for the Modern Adonis. But is there anybody who receives those affections in return? The handsome young man spotted on several occasions in the company of the supermodel in the past few months has finally been confirmed as Blaine Anderson, a popular music instructor. Recently, the two of them were spotted conversing rather passionately, and one passing spectator swears she heard Hummel say "I love you."_

"_Of course I love him," Hummel laughed it off when confronted about it. "I love all my friends. Who doesn't?" He continues to deny any sort of romantic relationship with Anderson, and he has yet to give an official statement concerning his sexuality. Nobody has been able to get in contact with Anderson yet for an interview."_

Blaine took a shaky breath. His phone was in his hand and he was speed-dialing Kurt before he'd even made the conscious decision to do so.

"Hey, what's up?"

"So I'm sitting here, skimming through _Ok!_ and drinking some tea, and I come across this article about you. Well, about _us_."

"And? That's nothing new."

"They mentioned that they were trying to get in contact with me. Am I supposed to be worried? Because I am."

"Oh." Kurt laughed. "Blaine, no, it's- Hold on." There was some muffled talking on the other end, and Blaine heard the sound of a door closing. "Okay. The media has been trying to get to you since the first picture came out. Mike's been keeping them at bay. If they do somehow get to you, just say 'no comment.'"

"I- Yeah, okay, but shouldn't I have known about this?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't think it was that important." Blaine could picture him shrugging. "Mike has it under control."

"That's not the problem," Blaine said, a little more snappish than he'd intended. "The problem is that you kept it from me, something that's sort of directly related to me. Don't you think I have a right to know that sort of thing?"

"I- I'm sorry Blaine, I didn't mean to–" There was a clattering on the other end. "Shit, I have to get back. Just- We can talk when I get home, okay?"

He held back a sigh. "Okay. Fine."

…

Kurt arrived late that night. Very late.

"I'm sorry," he said breathlessly, hanging up his coat and scarf. "Chandler caught me afterwards and we got talking and he wouldn't shut up and–" He caught Blaine's foul expression. "Sorry."

Blaine took a deep breath. "I just really don't want you to keep anything from me. At least not things that have to do with me. When you hide stuff from me it- it makes me wonder what else you're keeping me in the dark about."

"Nothing! There's not…" Kurt was silent for a moment. Then, quietly, "This is about Chandler too, isn't it?"

Blaine's jaw clenched, and he nearly ripped off the refrigerator door as he went to grab the milk. "Maybe a little."

"Blaine…" Kurt reached out, hesitated, then gently rested a hand on Blaine's tense shoulder. He didn't shrug it off, but he didn't melt into the touch as he usually did. "Blaine, please. Chandler means _nothing_ to me. You have to believe that. And I would never intentionally keep something from you. I- There was just so much going on and it slipped my mind and- I'm so sorry."

The sincerity in his voice made Blaine's throat close up and his heart ache. He set the milk carton down and pulled Kurt into his arms. Kurt automatically buried his head into his shoulder. "I'm sorry too, Angel. I overreacted. I know you'd never hide anything from me."

Kurt began to kiss that sensitive part of Blaine's neck, murmuring assurances and apologies over and over into his skin until he completely forgot why he'd been upset in the first place.

…

Madame Monette's Spring Runway had a huge turn-out. Blaine accompanied Kurt as his plus-one, and Wes and David were both granted discounted tickets. Blaine gave them a serious talk beforehand about keeping their cool, because they would be seated next to Kurt's friends and he had no intention of letting them make fools of themselves in front of a Broadway star. Although he supposed Rachel Berry was probably used to the attention.

Blaine had needed to reschedule a couple lessons in order to go, but he considered it more than worth it. His only regret was that he would have to wait an additional two days to see Emily again, who had quickly become his favorite student.

"You should hear her, Kurt, she's incredible!" he gushed as they were getting ready to leave. "I mean, she's still learning and her hands are so small but she's picking it up really quickly and she's clearly got some natural talent. She learned all of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' in less than a week!"

Kurt smiled at Blaine's enthusiasm. "Maybe I should stop by during her next lesson, then."

"You should. She's absolutely adorable. And so sweet."

"Weird, considering what a dragon-lady you said her mom is…"

"Oh! Actually, turns out, she's adopted. Mrs. Knox and her husband adopted Emily and Bonnie when they were three and one. And from the sound of it, they're not around very often. Em's been taking care of Bonnie for as long as she can remember."

Kurt frowned. "You can relate to her, can't you?" he said knowingly.

Blaine sighed. "Yeah, I suppose. I just wish I could help her. Bonnie's back in the hospital again and I think Em is really lonely without her."

Kurt squeezed his hand. "Okay, no more sadness tonight. We're going to forget about everything else and just have a nice time, alright?"

Blaine smiled and kissed him at the doorway. "Alright. I think I can manage that."

They arrived in separate cars. Blaine was led in the back way by Mike, who jokingly complained the entire way about how difficult it was to be the P.A. of such a famous model. Blaine recalled what Kurt had said about how much Mike was doing for them – for _him_ – and immediately felt guilt overwhelm him.

"Oh, don't be," Mike waved it off when he voiced his concern. "It's my job to help Kurt out, and if he wants to keep your relationship under wraps, then that's what I'll do. Don't feel bad about it. I'm just glad he doesn't want to pretend he's straight or something, too. I'm good but I'm not _that_ good."

Blaine gave a weak chuckle. Kurt appeared then with Puck and his team in toe.

"Hey, you get in alright? No paparazzi harassing you?"

"No problems whatsoever," Blaine assured. "Was it crazy out there?"

Kurt huffed out a breath. "You'd think I'd be used to it by now…All the lights and microphones and questions and signatures…"

"You handle it wonderfully."

Kurt smiled warmly, and he was leaning down, about to kiss him, when Mike tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sorry, we gotta go. You need to change."

The model gave a long-suffering sigh and departed.

Blaine sat with the rest of the plus-ones in the reserved section at the front. He could see his and Kurt's friends a little ways away chatting animatedly, and sighed in relief. The show itself was very entertaining; Blaine still thought it was silly to show off such outrageous outfits, but at the same time he could now respect the passion and creativity that went into runway shows. Dating Kurt had really taught him a new level of appreciation for the self-expression of design. And it didn't hurt that it gave him a perfect excuse to admire his boyfriend's impeccable body.

The young man who sat next to him was Chandler's plus-one, and after talking for a little bit Blaine realized that this guy – Sebastian Smythe – was the same Sebastian who'd upset Kurt at the beach. The conversation quickly dried out after that, although Sebastian continued to try, using flirty little winks that seemed like mockeries of Kurt's and made Blaine sort of uncomfortable.

Kurt was obviously a crowd favorite. The cameras were going wild. He looked so at home up there on the runway, so confident. Blaine felt a swell of pride in his chest as he tried to contain his applause. Chandler was also fairly well-loved. He did not get any cheers from Blaine, though. Just a glare.

"You were magnificent," Blaine congratulated at the after-party, resisting the urge to wrap Kurt up in his arms and kiss him senseless. "As usual."

"Thanks," Kurt breathed, smiling just as widely.

"When we get home–"

"Kurt," Mike interrupted. "Come on. Gotta make the rounds."

Kurt gave Blaine an apologetic grimace. Blaine shrugged to show he wasn't offended and let Mike drag Kurt off to the reporters jostling to get an interview. The pair stopped briefly to talk with Puck, and then the bodyguard made his way over.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you supposed to be protecting Kurt? I mean, no offense, it's just…"

Puck snorted. "He's assigned me to keep the paparazzi away from you. I don't question it, I just follow orders." At Blaine's skeptical glance, he amended, "Well, okay, I _usually_ follow orders."

Blaine tried not to sigh too heavily. Ever since his blow up over the _Ok! _article, Kurt had been taking extra measures: taking separate cars, the extra security, hardly ever going out together in public anymore. He had to just keep reminding himself that it was all for the best, that it was what Kurt wanted and needed. It hurt, though, to be constantly reminded that he was something to be kept a secret.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

He glanced around. Tina, Mike's wife, was at his shoulder, smiling sweetly up at him. "I- Oh, no, it's nothing."

"Thinking about Kurt?" she guessed.

"How could you tell?"

"You get this dazed look on your face," she said. "It's sort of cute, actually." He blushed; she giggled. "So I'm right, then?"

"You- Yes. I was just…" He exhaled powerfully. "It just gets hard sometimes to have to sneak around."

She nodded wisely. "It won't be like this forever. He'll get there, eventually. He just needs some- some time." Blaine bit back a response; it felt like Kurt would never _stop_ needing time. "He had a hard time in high school, I'm sure he's just scared. Patience is the key with him in this case, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, eventually he'll realize that going public with–"

"No, no, I mean what you said about him having a hard time in high school."

She and Puck exchanged a glance. "He, um…"

"He was bullied," said Puck bluntly. Blaine turned to him, eyes wide. "I don't know how much you know, but…It wasn't a pleasant time for him. He doesn't like to talk about it. He was the only out gay kid at our school, and Lima, Ohio isn't exactly the greatest place to be gay. It was verbal _and_ physical; honestly I think he's the strongest, bravest dude I know just for surviving through all that shit."

"I…I didn't know that," Blaine murmured. Suddenly Kurt's resistance to going public took on an entirely new meaning.

Tina placed a soft hand on his shoulder. "Bare with him. He'll get there eventually. He's probably scared people will react the same way people in high school reacted. I don't think he can quite get over that mind-block. Not yet, at least. Give it–"

"Time, yeah," he finished for her. "I know."

She smiled sympathetically. "If anybody can help him accept that not everybody will treat him the way he was treated at McKinley, it's you."

"Oh, no pressure or anything."

They laughed. Puck clapped him on the shoulder, and his whole body jolted. "You're a good guy, Anderson. I like you."

"Glad I have your approval."

"Just don't screw it up," the mohawked man warned. "If he gets forced out before he's ready it could totally destroy him."

Blaine felt overwhelmed, and it was getting harder to breathe. "I- I'm just gonna, um, take a walk. Be back in a sec." As he made his way around the edge of the crowded room, trying desperately to clear his head, an unfortunately familiar face appeared.

"Well hello there, Blaine," Chandler greeted with false cheer. His glasses flashed with the reflections of cameras going off all around. It made him look even more shady. "Fancy seeing you here. You're with Kurt, I suppose?"

"Yes," he answered stiffly.

"Did you happen to meet my friend Sebastian?" He gestured to somebody, and the taller model came over to join them, smirking at Blaine. The musician had the instinct to run.

"Yeah, we talked a bit before the show," he said.

"Best part of the night, in my opinion." And then Sebastian winked again. Blaine desperately wanted to see Kurt's again, just so he could replace the image in his mind. He never realized he could get so partial to one person's wink.

"Alright, let's just cut to the chase then, shall we?" Chandler lowered his voice, barely audible over the din. "We know you and Kurt are dating."

His heart leapt. "What? No we–"

"Lie all you want, we know it's true. How you two managed to keep it at mere speculation is truly a mystery, considering you two are practically undressing one another at every glance." Blaine opened his mouth to protest, but Chandler went on. "If you don't cooperate, we will expose you guys to the cruelest, most homophobic media outlets available."

"That is insane," he muttered. "Why would you do that to him?"

"You have the chance to stop us," he practically sang.

Blaine eyed the pair furiously, but knew he couldn't risk ignoring the threat. If they did end up outing Kurt and the public attacked him, it would be a nightmare. He couldn't handle that. Blaine would do whatever it took to keep Kurt safe and happy, to let him take their relationship public on his own terms, when the time was right. Even if it meant succumbing to this childish manipulation.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked grudgingly.

Chandler smirked.

"It's simple. I want you to break up with Kurt Hummel."


	18. Chapter 18: Goodbye

**Chapter 18: Goodbye**

"Alright, I'll go now, you wait a few minutes before you leave."

Blaine sighed, perhaps a little too heavily, but he had to make sure it was effective. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say."

Kurt's eyebrows drew together. "I'll see you at home?"

"Home…"

"What is it?"

He shrugged, folded his arms, avoided his boyfriend's gaze. "Well, you can't exactly call it home yet, can you?"

It was Kurt's turn to sigh now. "Look, you know why! If anyone saw a moving truck outside my apartment they'd–"

"They'd get suspicious, yeah, you said." He was definitely being snippy, not at all like his usual self. He hated it. "But you agreed to move in with me and then you made no plans to actually follow through – what's that supposed to say to me? How am I supposed to take that? Do you not want to after all?"

"No! I mean, yes, of _course_ I do!" Kurt looked almost hurt that Blaine would suggest such a thing. If they weren't in public – an uncrowded corner of Sabrina's, valid, but public nonetheless – he'd have Blaine in his arms by now. As it was, he just pursed his lips and clutched his mocha tighter. "Blaine, you know I want to. It's–"

"Do I?" he cut in, eyebrows raised. _Keep going_, he commanded himself, even though every nerve in his body was screaming to apologize for making a scene and just let it go. "Because honestly, I'm starting to wonder. You keep saying I should know, I should know, but honestly, sometimes I _don't_ know."

"Blaine!" Kurt gasped. His expression was torture on Blaine's heart. "Oh my god, no, please–" An old man got up from a nearby table and shuffled by on his way to the counter, and Kurt momentarily fell silent. Blaine scoffed and rolled his eyes, using the interruption as a perfect excuse to escape outside into the gloomy morning. The gray overcast sky seemed to emanate directly from Blaine's mood.

Kurt did not follow him out.

After his run-in with Chandler, Blaine had done a lot of thinking, trying to figure out what his next step would be. He obviously didn't want to break up with Kurt, but more than anything he wanted to make sure that Kurt was happy and safe. He was terrified of being outed and publicly attacked; Blaine's talk with Tina and Puck had made it very clear to him that he needed to do whatever it took to keep that from happening. Those no doubt traumatic memories from high school would stay dormant if he had any say in the matter. Which, unfortunately, meant submitting to Chandler's will.

_That conniving little asshole._

In the end, Blaine knew what he would have to do. He'd rather break his own heart to keep Kurt's safe rather than ignore Chandler's threat and risk bringing Kurt's nightmares to life.

He'd been picking arguments with Kurt increasingly often, latching onto things he'd normally let slide and making big deals out of them, throwing fits, trying to create the impression that he was discontent so that when the time came, the break up wouldn't seem all that out of the blue.

Not to say that it wouldn't still hurt.

It would definitely hurt. Without a doubt. Blaine was sure that it would be the most painful thing he'd ever have to do. Every time Kurt did something adorable or endearing a constricting, hollow feeling would develop in Blaine's chest because _how can I live without him?_ He would have to relearn how to wake up in the morning and not text Kurt; to come home at night and not find him already passed out on the couch where he'd been trying to stay up waiting for him; to walk by a department store with a poster of the model in the window and not call Kurt to tell him; to be without his soulmate. His smile, his laugh, his wit, his sarcasm, his intelligence, his modesty, his everything. It didn't seem possible. Blaine needed him the way he needed air.

_I guess I'm going to have to suffocate, then._

When Kurt arrived at Blaine's apartment that evening, he tip-toed in, hesitant, as if afraid Blaine would throw him out. But he didn't. In fact, he hardly acknowledged him apart from a stilted 'hello.'

"Okay," Kurt sighed, perching himself on the edge of the couch. "We should talk. I think we just need to get everything out on the table now."

Blaine took a deep breath. "Agreed." _This is it._ "I'm sick of this. I'm sick of sneaking around like our relationship is something to be ashamed of and I'm sick of making all these plans that never end up happening because it might look 'suspicious' to the paparazzi and I'm sick of saying we're just friends and lying and I'm sick of taking such extreme measures just to keep up appearances and I'm sick of pretending that everything's fine when it's not and I'm just _sick_ of it!"

Kurt looked floored, and panicked. "Blaine I–" A bit of irritation leaked into his voice. "I'm trying okay? It's not easy for me either, you know?"

"Stop saying that!" he snapped. "I'm not a mind-reader, I _don't_ know everything."

"So, what, it gets a little tricky and you bail?" Kurt threw back. "No. This isn't _you_, Blaine."

_Stop it. Rewind. Take everything back._ "Then clearly you don't know me as well as you thought you did!"

"You're a coward, Blaine," he bit out.

_Stop. Apologize and explain. _"I'm doing what I think is best!"

"Best for who?" Kurt leapt to his feet, blue eyes flashing. "For you? Because it's certainly not the best for me. I- I love you!"

Blaine stood as well. His mind and his mouth had now completely disconnected. _Kiss him. Hold him. Make it stop. _"How am I supposed to believe that when you won't let anybody know?"

"Blaine…"

And there is was. The pleading. The desperate, begging gaze, the quivering bottom lip, it pierced Blaine's heart and crushed both his lungs. He turned on his heel and headed for the door. He needed to get out. "Goodbye, Kurt."

_I love you, too._

He grabbed a coat and departed, not daring to look back. Before he knew it, he was jogging, then running, then full-out sprinting blindly down the street, not consciously heading in any particular direction. Away. That's all he could process. He had to go somewhere – _anywhere_ – that wasn't near Kurt. If he'd stayed a second longer he would have broken down and not gone through with it. Not done what was best for Kurt in the long run.

_It _was_ for the best_, he reminded himself. _It was._

He nearly turned around five times, but somehow he ended up on the doorstep to Wes and David's flat. He smashed his fist into the door until it finally opened, revealing a pajama-clad Wes.

"Blaine, what the hell, do you know what time it–?" He took in Blaine's appearance and tear-stained face. "Oh my god, what happened? You look awful!"

"Kurt and I broke up," he choked.

Wes's eyes grew wide as saucers. Disbelief and shock warred in his expression. "I- Are you-? Come in, come in." He ushered the musician inside. "I'll, uh, make some coffee."

Blaine promptly burst into tears again.

…

When Wes brought Blaine home the next day, all of Kurt's things were missing.

"Do you want me to stick around? We can watch a stupid action movie, order in some pizza," Wes offered gently. Even though there were no holds barred last night when he and David were telling Blaine exactly how stupid they thought he was for ending it with Kurt, they were still doing their best to console their heartbroken friend.

"No, thanks," Blaine muttered. "I just wanna go to sleep and not wake up."

Wes gave him a sympathetic smile. "Alright. Well, call me if you need anything. I'm here for you, man."

Blaine nodded absently and drifted towards the bedroom, hardly noticing the sound of the front door opening and closing as Wes left. The sight of the bed brought back too many memories, however, memories of soft touches and sweet nothings whispered in the moonlight and–

He shut the door and headed for the couch instead. The couch where they'd snuggled and watched mindless television, and read by the firelight, and kissed passionately, and–

He veered off to the kitchen, thinking vaguely of grabbing some food. He hadn't eaten all day. But as he approached the counter, he could see Kurt with his head in the refrigerator asking what Blaine wanted for dinner, and at the coffeemaker complaining that it tasted nothing like Sabrina's coffee, and at the counter watching Blaine cook and laughing at something he'd said, and–

Kurt was everywhere. The entire apartment was crawling with his presence. All except the music room. So he shut himself inside the soundproofed room and sat down heavily on the piano bench. Kurt hardly ever went in here. It was Blaine's safe-space now.

_I'm hiding from memories_, he realized. _I've officially hit rock bottom._

He stayed in that room for the rest of the night, until he was forced to get up and go to his morning lessons. It was Emily, which he hoped would make everything a little better. A little more bearable. But she seemed in a fairly morose mood, too.

"Is everything alright?" he asked gently as she got settled in front of the piano.

"I guess," she muttered, swinging her legs and sitting on her hands. Blaine knew her well enough to tell she wanted him to pry further.

"What's up? Did something happen?"

She sighed. "It's Bonnie."

He frowned. "Is she not out of the hospital yet?" It seemed that lately she was in the hospital more often than she was out of it.

"She's joined our mommy and daddy in heaven."

"She…what?" Blaine breathed. "Oh my god. What- How- Are you- How are you doing?" Too many questions filled his sleep-deprived mind at once; it was overwhelming. _Heaven? She's…She's dead? Bonnie's dead? How can that be?_

Emily nodded, her face downcast. "I was with her. She was smiling, though, and she told me that she was going to a happy place, where our real mommy and daddy are, and that she'd say hi for me and wait for me to join them someday, and not to be sad. But I am. I miss her. Does that make me a bad person?"

Blaine blinked back tears. It was all too much. He couldn't handle this. "No," he said firmly. "No, not at all. It's perfectly normal to be sad. That's- I'm _so_ sorry, Em…I wish there was something I could do to help. Just- Just remember that she loved you, okay? And she's in a better place now. She's be looking after you. You're own personal angel."

She nodded, sniffling. She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

An idea came to him. "Come on." He stood, and gestured for her to do the same.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"We're going to go get hot fudge sundaes." A memory of him suggesting the same thing to Kurt crossed his mind, but he quickly fought it back. "We both need a pick-me-up. We can go, stuff our faces, and be back before your mother comes to collect you."

Emily looked significantly more enthused about this plan. "Really? Skip lessons to get ice cream? Can we do that?"

"Of course we can. I'm the teacher, after all."

"Yay!" she cheered, and for the first time since the break up, Blaine smiled.


	19. Chapter 19: You Idiot

**Chapter 19: You Idiot**

The apartment was too quiet without Kurt. The bed was too empty. The walk to Sabrina's was too long. His phone was too heavy. Music was too bland.

"Come on, it'll be good for you!" Wes coaxed, practically dragging Blaine along by his scarf. He'd decided to take matters into his own hands and try to cheer Blaine up. Blaine didn't have it in him to protest, even though he wasn't exactly thrilled to be going to Sabrina's with Wes and David. In fact, that was probably the thing he wanted to do _least_. Right next to stepping in front of a speeding taxi cab.

"You've been a complete recluse ever since The Breakup," David agreed solemnly. He pulled open the door and gestured for Wes to force Blaine inside. The curly-haired man stumbled in and walked lifelessly up to the counter.

"A small drip, please."

"Make it a grande," Wes corrected.

"And some biscotti," added David. Georgia – _oh god_, Blaine thought, _she's the one that was working when Kurt and I first ran into each other here_ – nodded and quickly went about preparing his order. Wes waited by the counter as David steered Blaine to a table. _Kurt and I sat here during our first date_, Blaine recalled. _And when Chandler came and crashed my birthday._

"Stop it."

Blaine blinked up at David. "Sorry?"

"Stop it," he repeated firmly. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Thinking about him."

The shorter man folded his arms and sank lower in his seat. _I'm never not thinking about him_, he wanted to say. But he knew that wouldn't go down well. He was supposed to be getting over Kurt. Moving on. Finding closure, or whatever. He knew he'd done the right thing for Kurt in the end.

_So why does it still hurt so bad?_

David shook his head. "Blaine," he began in that now-familiar tone. "Look, I know you think that breaking it off with Kurt was a good idea and all, but–"

"No buts." Blaine glared warningly across the table at his friend. "This is not up for debate. We- It's over between us."

Wes arrived with the coffee and biscotti and immediately chipped in with a vehement, "You're a complete idiot, Anderson. Utter fool."

"Wow, thanks a lot. You're doing a great job of cheering me up." Blaine wondered if he could drown emotions in a coffee cup. Somehow, it seemed doubtful. But he was up for trying.

"You love him," Wes hissed, brandishing a biscotti at him. "You were crazy about him, and you still are. Breaking up with him was the stupidest thing you've ever done and if you don't stop this insanity at once I'm going to shove this biscotti right up your–"

"Wes!" Blaine barked, perhaps more harshly than the situation entailed. "Just…_stop_, okay? You _know_ why I did it."

"All I _know_ is that you decided to end it and now you're completely miserable and I'm sorry but I can't sit around and watch you waste away like an expired pear."

David glanced sideways at his best friend. "I…No, I'm not even gonna comment on that." He turned back to Blaine. "Look, man, I get it. You have your reasons and I respect that. I'm- We're just worried about you. We don't want you to suffer so much over this. Maybe it would be best to just explain everything to Kurt and–"

"And what?" Blaine bit out. "And risk the chance of Chandler and Sebastian outing him and having the media completely tear him up? Yeah right. Kurt's better off without me now."

David frowned. "You don't honestly think that, do y-?"

The bell above the door jingled, and when Blaine glanced at the entranceway his breath caught and his heart dropped like stone.

Kurt spotted him and froze.

"What's _he_ doing here?" Wes said, glaring over the edge of his coffee cup. Kurt hesitated, clearly debating whether to book it or not. The sight of him made Blaine feel like his skin was flaking off and all of his raw emotions were exposed for the world to see. For Kurt to see. It was hellish torture.

"He's allowed to be here," he mumbled. "It's a public place."

"Yeah, but you came first! You were a regular here before Kurt even knew this place existed! What a douche–"

"Hey! Lay off him," Blaine chastised. "He hasn't done anything wrong. _I'm_ the one that broke up with _him_, remember? If anyone deserves to get kicked out, it's me."

When he glanced back over at the model, he was at the counter ordering something – a medium nonfat mocha, no doubt – from a slightly shellshocked Georgia. _He looks good. Healthy, at least. Tired. Has he been getting enough sleep?_

Wes and David watched Kurt like a hawk, as if they expected him to try and come over. Indeed, there was a moment when Blaine was sure he would, but in the end he stayed away, which was probably for the best. Blaine felt like his heart had leapt out of his chest and was desperately trying to stretch his heartstrings to get over to Kurt. His grip on his coffee was dangerous; Wes had to reach over twice and relax his hold.

As soon as Kurt had his drink, he practically ran out.

Blaine felt nauseous. "I think I need to go lie down," he muttered, getting to his feet. His friends quickly followed his lead. They seemed worried; no doubt Blaine looked a little pale, or perhaps green.

"Blaine," Georgia called, and he veered over to the counter, hoping this would be quick so he could go back to his apartment and try to erase all the painful memories it held for him these days. _Maybe I'll rearrange the furniture. Or get new stuff altogether. _She lowered her voice to just under a murmur as she said, "I don't know if you wanted to know this, but he- he didn't get his normal order."

Blaine frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He ordered a medium drip." She gave him a significant look. "And I could have sworn he once said it 'tastes like him.'"

David had to physically drag the poor slack-jawed Blaine out of the coffee shop.

…

It was early April, and he'd just gotten home from his latest piano lesson with Emily when there came a rapid knocking on his door.

"One second," Blaine called tiredly, getting to his feet from the couch and padding over to answer it, not bothering to check the peephole. It was probably David or Wes. Or both. Ever since The Breakup they'd taken to spending a hefty chunk of their free time over at his place to keep him company. He wasn't really complaining; it was nice to have a distraction from the insistent ghosts of Kurt hovering around – at the stove, on the couch, in the bedroom doorway, everywhere.

Instead, he found a familiar pale model in the doorway, cheeks flushed and eyes ablaze.

"Kurt?" he gasped incredulously.

The brunet nearly bowled him over as he stormed inside. "You, Blaine Anderson, are without a doubt the most idiotic, inconsiderate, thick-headed, overprotective fool I have _ever_ met!"

Blaine gaped at him, fumbling to close the door as Kurt stopped in the middle of the living room and turned on him. _Kurt's here. In my apartment. He just walked in. And I'm in sweatpants._ "I- You- What–?"

"Why?" Kurt interrupted his incoherent blubbering. "Why didn't you say anything? Why did you take Chandler's threat seriously? Why would you- Why didn't you just talk to me about it? This- Everything could have been- You're so _stupid_! God, Blaine, I can't decide if I want to kiss you or _hit_ you right now!"

Blaine's confusion and disbelief only escalated. "You- How do you know about that?" he managed to get out. His brain seemed to have stopped functioning altogether by this point, still stuck on _he's back_ and _he's talking to me _and _I really should have kept my jeans on I look like a bum_.

"Chandler tried to ask me out yet again today," Kurt muttered, sounding murderous at the name. Blaine's heart fluttered with something akin to hope. "I turned him down of course, flat-out. He- Well, he obviously didn't take kindly to that. And he mentioned getting you 'out of the picture' so I made him explain and he confessed about his stupid scheme to 'out' us unless you broke up with me – followed by a desperate little speech about how perfect we apparently are for one another and how he 'only did it for us' or some bullshit like that. I don't know, I wasn't listening at that point. I was too busy trying not to punch him."

"I- But- So you know–?"

"I know."

And with that, he surged forwards and attached his lips to Blaine's. The pressure was so familiar and welcomed it brought tears to Blaine's eyes. _He's back. He's here. He's with me. He's kissing me. Kurt. _His arms subconsciously wrapped around Kurt and pulled him close, fingers twisting themselves into the fabric of Kurt's coat.

"You're so stupid," Kurt sighed into his mouth.

"God I missed you."

Kurt pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against Blaine's, their breaths intermingling. "Blaine, I was ready to go public," Kurt confessed quietly, eyes shining and earnest. "I- The night we- when you- I was going to tell you that I was finally ready."

"I'm sorry," Blaine choked. He pressed his lips to the corner of Kurt's, then his cheek, then his jaw. The feel of smooth skin was addictive. He honestly couldn't comprehend how he'd managed to let such an amazing person go. "I'm so sorry. So, so, _so_ sorry. I'm sorry, Angel. So sorry."

"Ssh," Kurt soothed, arms sliding around his waist and holding tight. "It's okay. It's okay now. I'm here. Just…I get that you were looking out for me, trying to protect me, but- In the future, let me decide what's best for me myself, okay? If this relationship is going to last we need to communicate at all times. Which includes stupid, childish arm-twisting from assholes like Chandler."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Blaine mumbled. His words were muffled into Kurt's collar. It smelled like home. "Oh god, you're really here. I thought- I thought I'd lost you. I thought–"

"I'm here," Kurt reassured gently, although Blaine could hear the tears in his voice as well. He felt wetness on his neck and tightened his hold on Kurt's waist. "I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Blaine. I love you way more than my job or my reputation, and I'm sorry I didn't make that clear from the beginning. You're the whole world to me. I- You make me want to be brave. Braver. I want the world to know I love you and if they can't accept that, I'll deal. I can handle it."

"_We'll_ deal," Blaine corrected. "I'm with you every step of the way. There's no way I'm ever letting you go now. I can't- I couldn't survive going through that again. You're stuck with me."

Kurt's grinned and kissed his forehead. "I love you. So, _so_ much."

Blaine's throat constricted. He never thought he'd hear that again. Not from Kurt, at least. He felt simultaneously like the stupidest person alive – for ever letting him go – and the luckiest – for getting him back. "I love you too, Angel."


	20. Chapter 20: Courage

**Chapter 20: Courage**

"Now, you're sure about this, right?" Mike checked for the umpteenth time. He sat across from them in the back of the limo heading for the Spring Fashion Show, pretty much the biggest event of the season for both designers and models.

"_Yes_, I promise," Kurt sighed exasperatedly, his hand firmly enclosed around Blaine's. "I want to do this. I _need_ to do this."

Blaine leaned in to whisper in his ear. "I am _so_ proud of you, Angel. No matter what happens tonight, just remember that I love you, okay? I'll be with you every step of the way."

The car pulled up to the curb as Kurt nodded, his grip tightening, his eyes growing wide with nerves. "I never told you this before," he murmured hurriedly in the few seconds they had before his door would open, "but I really love it when you call me that."

Before Blaine could respond, the door was opened and they were hit with a bombardment of noise and flashing lights. Kurt put on his winning smile and stepped out, completely at home in front of the cameras, waving to the screaming fans on the sidelines. He then turned back and offered his hand to Blaine.

He took it without hesitation.

The sharp increase in noise level made it clear the gesture in itself was confirmation enough. Blaine smiled around at everyone, his hold on Kurt's hand perhaps a little tighter than was necessary, but hey, he'd never been the focus of so much attention before. It was intimidating. _How does Kurt do it?_

"Kurt! Kurt Hummel, over here!"

Kurt led him over to one of the many reporters scrabbling to interview the supermodel.

"Who do you have with you tonight?" she asked, holding the microphone out to Kurt.

"This is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson," Kurt introduced, calmly and clearly. But Blaine could hear the underlying nerves. This was it.

"You're boyfriend?" she parroted excitedly. "Oh, how adorable!"

"Thank you." His grip on Blaine's hand relaxed a bit at that.

"And how long has this been going on between you two?" she pressed.

"A while," Kurt answered evasively. "It's not really something we felt the need to share with the whole world, y'know? I want people's opinions of me to be based on my work, not my sexuality."

"Which is…?" the reporter prodded.

Blaine could have sworn everyone within hearing distance held their breath as Kurt responded. "Gay. I'm gay."

"But like he said," Blaine couldn't help but put in, shifting slightly so that their shoulders were touching. Her microphone switched to him. "That's not what people should be judging him on. He's _incredibly_ talented at what he does – that's all that should matter."

Kurt laughed and nudged him playfully. "You flatter me."

"You deserve it," he insisted with an affectionate smile.

The interviewer cooed. "Well aren't you two just the cutest?" They smiled easily. "So do you think going public with this will affect your ratings at all, Mr. Hummel?"

The model shrugged. "Ideally it _shouldn't_, because who I'm dating has nothing to do with my performance or my job. But unfortunately, there are probably still people that are going to stop supporting me because of this, which is depressing, but what can you do? I'd much rather lose some of my fans and be able to call Blaine mine than hide him away or break up with him or something. He means more to me than anything."

"That's so romantic!" she said.

"Agreed," murmured Blaine. And then, cameras be damned, he leaned in and stole a quick kiss from his boyfriend. They were both grinning when he pulled back. "Too much?" he asked under his breath so the mic couldn't pick it up.

"Just right," Kurt assured, equally quietly.

They did a few more interviews, posed for the cameras, and finally went inside. The reactions had been even better than Blaine had hoped for; he hadn't heard a single snide comment or seen a disapproving expression on anyone's face when Kurt introduced him as his boyfriend. When he pointed this out to Kurt, he smiled as bright as the sun and kissed him, right there in public, not caring who saw.

…

Blaine sat in the VIP area for the show. He clapped politely and tried to focus on the designs, but he was practically bouncing in his seat waiting for Kurt to appear.

And then he was there, striding down the runway, one hand hooked casually in his pocket, his scarf flowing out behind him, his hat perched lopsidedly to show off his flawless hair beneath. The sight took Blaine's breath away. He couldn't stop staring like a lovestruck idiot. Which he was, to be honest.

At the end of the runway, he posed for the cameras – which had been going completely mad from the moment he stepped out onstage – and then sent that signature little half-wink to Blaine. He finally snapped out of his trance long enough to blow him a kiss.

And then–

"Get off the stage, faggot!"

The call came from the back; Blaine didn't look around to see who it was. His blood ran cold and his heart sank like a stone. He saw the fear, the hurt on Kurt's face, and he was torn between wanting to gather him up in his arms or go break every bone in that asshole's body.

To Kurt's credit, his expression only faltered for a second. Then his face went blank, and he returned down the runway with just as much ease and comfort as before. But Blaine knew he was on the verge of breaking down.

There was a mild disturbance as the man was forcibly removed by security. Blaine used it as a cover to slip out of his seat and hurry backstage, where Kurt was being helped into his second outfit for the show. His fellow models were fluttering around him, throwing a fit on his behalf.

"What a bastard!"

"So inappropriate!"

"Who does he think he is?"

"Don't listen to him."

Blaine stepped forward. He offered no words; just opened his arms and let Kurt collapse into them. He petted Kurt's hair, kissed his forehead, swayed back and forth soothingly. Kurt clung to him as if he was the only thing keeping him together. Which perhaps might have actually been the case.

"Do you want to go?" Blaine offered gently.

Kurt sniffled, pulled back, shook his head. "No. No, I- I'm finishing this show. Dammit, he's not chasing me off the stage. That's _my_ stage, Blaine. I belong there."

Blaine smiled lovingly at him, pressed a gentle kiss to his quivering lips. "I know. I can't even tell you how proud I am. Go show him how much better you are than him. And when this is all over, Angel, I'm going to hunt him down and kill him. Slow and painful."

That earned him a laugh. They both knew Blaine could never hurt a fly. But the offer seemed to do the trick. Kurt allowed the helpers to finish fixing him up, and Blaine handed him an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his eyes.

"You look fucking _amazing_, by the way," he muttered, kissing him once more.

"Thank you."

"Kurt come on, you're on!" a woman with a headset and clipboard snapped, tugging him away. Blaine gave a small wave before rushing back out to his seat in just enough time to see his boyfriend take the stage once more. To his utmost pleasure, the crowd went absolutely wild with applause at his reappearance; by the time he'd reached the end of the runway, everyone was on their feet. The sight brought tears to Blaine's eyes.

_Look, Kurt. They support you. They love you. You're still the best._

Kurt caught his eye and gave a watery smile that Blaine immediately returned.

…

Blaine offered to skip the after-party, and for the two of them to just head back to his – _their_ – apartment. Kurt insisted on staying, though. He didn't want the heckler to have the satisfaction of knowing how upset he'd made him. So Blaine stuck around, giving every person who tried to approach him or Kurt with a microphone the stink eye. He and Mike both agreed to have Puck shadow Kurt for the evening, despite the model's protests.

At one point, Tina came over and pulled Blaine aside after congratulating Kurt on the show. "So. You two are back together."

"Yeah."

She pinned him with an unnervingly intense glare. "You'd better not mess this up, Anderson. This is a _huge_ step for him, to come out to the public like that."

"I know," he assured. And he did.

"You'd better be worth it. Because I can see the way he looks at you, Blaine. You're his entire world. Seeing him after you'd broken up…It was like someone had just made a hollow mold of him. He was empty. I can't- I refuse to let that happen again. Break up with him again and he- I don't even want to think about what would happen to him."

"Tina, relax." He reached out and held her gently by the shoulders. "I plan on staying with Kurt for a very, very long time. Preferably forever, if he'll take me. Our separation was…It was a mistake. A miscommunication. But now that I have him back, I'm going to do my damnedest to keep him. You have my word on that."

She nodded grudgingly. "Alright. As long as you swear you're not going to hurt him again…"

"I swear. Tina, breaking up with him…That was the hardest thing I'd ever done in my entire life. I'm more than happy to spend the rest of my life making it up to him."

A smile finally spread across her face. "That's what I like to here. Glad to see you again, Blaine. You two are made for each other."

Blaine laughed at her sudden one-eighty. "Thanks. I like to think so, too."

…

Kurt collapsed face-first onto the bed, starfished across the comforter, clad in nothing but pajama bottoms. Blaine chuckled and patiently coaxed Kurt's body underneath the sheets so he wouldn't be cold, before turning off the light and slipping in next to him.

"Remind me in the morning to have Mike bring over the rest of my scarves," Kurt murmured sleepily into the pillows. He'd been gradually moving his things into Blaine's flat over the past couple of weeks. What couldn't fit was to be packed up in boxes and left in the spare room of his old apartment, which he'd given to Mike and Tina (they'd been looking for a new place for a while now; it all worked out perfectly).

"There's _more_?"

Kurt managed a tiny snort. "Oh Blaine, you know me better than that."

Blaine smiled in agreement. "So…How are you feeling?" He brushed his fingers through Kurt's hair. Kurt sighed deeply and turned to rest his cheek on Blaine's arm, their faces inches apart.

"Alright. Fine. Better than I'd expected."

"I'm sorry about the interruption."

Kurt shrugged. "Not your fault. It was bound to happen at some point. At least the interviews all went well."

"Yeah, everyone seemed really supportive," Blaine enthused. "I lost count of how many people told me how jealous of me they were to be dating you."

Kurt hummed. "_I'm_ the lucky one."

They fell silent, and judging by the evenness of Kurt's breathing Blaine thought he'd fallen asleep, using Blaine's arm as a pillow. But then Kurt spoke again. His eyes remained shut and his lips brushed Blaine's skin with every word. "We should go back to Ohio."

Blaine frowned. "What? Why? Do you want to visit your dad again?"

"No. We need to go see your parents."

Blaine's fingers instinctively twitched closed in the ghost of a fist. "I- I'm not sure that's such a great idea."

"Blaine, I'm serious." And even through his sleepy daze, Kurt managed to pry his eyes open again and focus those hypnotic blue eyes on him. "We're- We're getting serious. We're living together, we've gone public, I just- I think we need to visit your parents. As a couple. At least once. Isn't that sort of a traditional stepping stone when it comes to relationships? Getting to meet the family?"

"Yeah, but you really don't want to meet mine," Blaine mumbled sulkily.

Kurt's hand came up and stroked Blaine's cheek, fingers so soft they felt like feathers. "I really do, though, Blaine," he insisted calmly. "You gave me the courage to get over my fear. Now I want to do the same for you. I want to be there for you and show you that no matter what they say, to you or to me, I will still love you with all my heart. They can't break us, or what we have."

Blaine swallowed around the lump in his throat. "Have I mentioned lately I love you?"

Kurt smiled and stretched his neck to place a warm kiss to Blaine's lips. "Yes, but I'll never get tired of hearing it."

"I love you, Angel."

Kurt's returning 'I love you, too' faded off in the middle as he fell asleep in Blaine's arms.


	21. Chapter 21: Dinner with the Andersons

**Chapter 21: Dinner with the Andersons**

The dinner with Blaine's parents, to be blunt, was a complete and utter disaster.

It had started out nicely enough. Blaine's parents were experts at hosting dinner parties. They made polite conversation over cocktails; asked Kurt about his modeling career, pried for celebrity gossip, praised his success. They practically ignored their son altogether, and although Kurt artfully redirected the topic to Blaine on multiple occasions, his parents repeatedly returned it to Kurt. Blaine tried not to let it bother him. It was better than having them attack him, after all.

Dinner was pleasant, if not a little tense. Kurt held Blaine's hand under the table and sent him sympathetic little smiles throughout the meal. He was the perfect guest, though, complimenting the food and Mrs. Anderson's dress and making idle chat like a pro. Blaine dared to hope the night would go without a hitch.

He should have known better.

Dessert was a peanut butter cake, their cook's specialty apparently. (It must have been a new cook; the one Blaine had grown up with hardly ever made cakes unless Mrs. Anderson specifically requested one.) Kurt threw Blaine a startled look.

_Don't say anything_, Blaine begged with his eyes. _Don't bring it up. Don't–_

Kurt obviously didn't catch his mental wavelength.

"Um, Mrs. Anderson, this looks absolutely delicious," Kurt began carefully, "but it- it has peanut butter…"

She frowned. "Yes. Oh, dear, are you allergic?" She turned to Blaine with a piercing glare. "Blaine, honestly. You should have told us if your guest was allergic to anything. Can't you do anything right?"

"No, ma'am, I'm not allergic," Kurt intervened, the polite façade he'd kept up throughout the evening finally cracking. "_Blaine_ is."

Both his parents turned to their son.

"Really?" Mrs. Anderson said, sounding genuinely surprised.

"How can you not know your own son's allergies?" Kurt accused. His tone was growing harder by the second. Blaine was frozen in his seat, eyes flickering from his boyfriend to his parents, silently praying nothing got out of hand.

"Well, it must be a very mild case," Mr. Anderson decided with a wave of his hand.

Blaine saw Kurt's jaw drop in disbelief. "I had to go to the ER when I was five because you gave me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," he couldn't help but remind them quietly. The night was quickly spiraling out of hand, and he wasn't sure how to get it back on track. "It- It's okay, I'm really full anyway."

"It's not okay!" Kurt burst out, glaring across the table at Blaine's parents. "If you can't remember something as _basic_ as your son's allergies, you clearly aren't doing your job as parents!"

"I will not be spoken to like this in my own house!" Mr. Anderson roared, getting to his feet. Kurt mirrored him, and Mrs. Anderson and Blaine soon followed, if only to make sure the two men didn't try and get physical. "Don't assume you know everything about our son!"

"I obviously know more than both of you combined!" Kurt threw back.

"Blaine," Mr. Anderson said, his voice dangerously low. "I think it's time for you to escort your guest out."

"Boyfriend," Kurt corrected in exasperation. "I'm his _boyfriend_. We're _dating_. Your son is gay, Mr. Anderson, whether you like it or not."

Blaine grabbed Kurt's elbow. "Come on," he muttered. "Let's just go."

They retrieved their coats from the hallway closet and made their way out into the night, Blaine making a point of slamming the door behind them, knowing it was one of his mother's biggest pet peeves.

"I cannot _believe_ them!" Kurt ranted, smoke practically pouring from his ears as he stormed down the driveway towards the rental car parked on the curb. He was tugging Blaine along with perhaps more force than was necessary, but Blaine didn't protest. "The nerve! I don't know what their issue is but they obviously aren't going to be coming to terms with you or us anytime soon. I mean, the way they–!"

Blaine drew Kurt to a stop. "Hey, come on, don't let them get to you," he pleaded. "Let's just- Let's go get some dessert and then head back to your dad's place. Okay?" Kurt nodded reluctantly. "And give me the keys – you're in no condition to be driving."

Kurt handed them over and moved to the passenger side of the rental car. Blaine started the engine, waited for a moment for the heater to kick in, and then pulled away from the curb. The road was coated in a thin layer of ice, but the starry sky was clear and speckled with stars.

"I can't believe you lived with them your entire life," Kurt grumbled, arms folded, an adorable pout on his face. Blaine reached over to squeeze his knee, and Kurt took his hand between both of his own as if on instinct.

"Well, I did move to New York the first chance I got," he pointed out lightly. It was strange; Kurt's frustration and indignation had left Blaine oddly calm about the whole thing. Usually any sort of interaction with his parents left him haggard and upset. It seemed that Kurt had taken that role from him tonight.

"The way they treated you," Kurt sighed, glowering out the windshield at the road ahead, "I just don't understand how they could _not_ be as proud of you as I am. I mean, you're an extremely talented musician! Not to mention handsome, kind-hearted, generous, smart, and pretty much every other quality that makes a perfect man."

Blaine laughed. "I'm not perfect, babe."

"You are to me," Kurt said firmly. "And if they can't see how incredible you are, then screw them." He huffed out a breath, and then added, more subdued, "I'm sorry. This was a horrible idea."

"Hey. No. Don't feel bad. You couldn't have known." Blaine risked a glance at his boyfriend, flashing a reassuring smile when he caught his eye. "Thank you, by the way."

Kurt frowned. "For what? I just yelled at your parents and got us kicked out."

"For coming with me. For sticking up for me. For _knowing_ me as well as you do. For loving me as much as I love you."

The model finally smiled, and brought Blaine's hand up to kiss his knuckles. "Anytime."

…

"It's raining."

Blaine grunted in acknowledgement. It was the middle of the night, and he had an early lesson in the morning. The weather didn't much matter to him at the moment.

"Blaine," Kurt whined again, sitting up and nudging his shoulder repeatedly. Blaine groaned and rolled over, squinting up at his boyfriend sleepily. "It's raining."

"Yeah?" Blaine muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and desperately trying to regain some sort of mental functioning. "What about it? Can't you sleep?" _He's slept through plenty of thunderstorms before. Maybe he had a nightmare?_

Kurt rolled his eyes at Blaine's assumption. "It's _wet_, Blaine."

Despite the simplicity of the statement, Blaine had trouble comprehending it. He shut his eyes tight and reopened them, as if hoping the explanation would appear before him. Obviously he wasn't going to be doing any deep thinking anytime soon. "I- What? Rain's wet. Right. So?" _Is this some sort of word game? God, I'm too tired for this._

Kurt looked amused. "_So_, did you leave any windows open last night? I would have just checked myself, but I didn't really fancy stumbling around the apartment if there wasn't any need–"

"Oh crap!"

Blaine finally – _finally_ – understood what Kurt had been telling him. He lunged out of bed and all but sprinted to the music room, where, sure enough, the large east-facing window was thrown wide open. Raindrops exploded on the sill and sprayed indoors, dampening the instruments closest and creating a small puddle on the floor. The sheets of music beside the piano were wrinkled from the moisture. He swore loudly as he slammed the window shut and locked it. Kurt shuffled in, clad in his pajama bottoms and one of Blaine's old hoodies, hair askew. He shivered from the chill of the room and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Everything alright?" he asked with a calm, sleepy smile.

Blaine sighed, gesturing to the violin, the cello, and the edge of the piano. "I've got to dry these off before they get warped," he grumbled distractedly. He spun in a circle, his thoughts too scattered to actually do anything productive. Kurt moved to still his frantic hands.

"I'll do it," he offered softly. "Go back to sleep. You've got an early tutoring session today. Leave it to me."

Blaine was going to protest. Really, he was. But Kurt had a point, and honestly the offer was too tempting to turn down. If he tried to do anything in this state he'd probably end up trying to wipe down the cello with a head of lettuce. So he smiled and pulled Kurt in for a grateful kiss. "You're an _angel_, Angel," he murmured.

"Go back to bed," Kurt urged again.

So that's exactly what he did.

…

When he awoke three hours later to his alarm clock Kurt was beside him, snuggled up against his back. He shut off the beeping immediately, not wanting to wake Kurt up, and slid quietly out of bed. The model mumbled a little in his sleep at the sudden loss of body heat and rolled forward onto Blaine's side of the bed, burying his face into Blaine's pillow and taking a deep breath. Blaine gazed down at him affectionately. He kissed Kurt's cheek before going out to the kitchen and making himself some much-needed coffee. Within half an hour he was dressed, shaven, and had tamed his curls with gel. Coffee (his second cup of the morning) in hand, he peeked into the music room. Kurt, in true Kurt style, had not only dried off the instruments but also aired out all of the music sheets with his blow dryer – which now sat atop the keyboard – and re-stacked them neatly. His personal space heater – the one he used on particularly cold nights when the apartment's heater simply didn't cut it – now sat in the corner of the room closest to the affected instruments. A towel from the bathroom rested on the floor underneath the window.

_Could he _be_ any more perfect?_

Knowing the answer already, Blaine took another swig of coffee and headed to work.

…

"Jeff called me today," Blaine brought up halfway through their dinner of pork chops that night.

Kurt thought for a second. "Oh! That friend of yours from Baltimore, the music producer? Did he want something?"

Blaine swallowed his mouthful before answering. "He wanted to see if I was willing to record some of my songs. Again. He was going on and on about my lyrics and feeding my ego and I- I don't know why, but this time I said yes." He glanced to Kurt and added, "But I wanted to talk to you about it before anything happened."

Kurt's face broke into a grin. "Oh my god, that's incredible! Do you need an agent? Does he want you to sign a record deal? Oh, this is so exciting!"

Blaine reached over and grabbed Kurt's hand to calm him. "Babe, hold your horses, this isn't anything big. I'm not expecting to become a multi-platinum recording artist or anything. We're probably just going to put out an EP of some of my originals. Nothing earth-shaking. I just- I wanted you to be a part of this. I wanted to be sure you're okay with this."

Kurt looked at him as if he was crazy. "Blaine, honey, this is _your_ career. The world deserves to hear your songs. You're _so_ talented; I'm really glad you took him up on his offer. I can't wait to go into a music store and see your CD and be able to say 'that's my boyfriend. He made that.' I say go for it."

The musician grinned from ear to ear and pulled Kurt in for a searing kiss. "Thank you," he murmured against his lips. "I don't think I could have done it if it weren't for you always believing in me."

Kurt smiled, winding his fingers through Blaine's curls. "I'll always be your number one fan."

"I'll give Jeff a call in the morning then, set things up." They settled back into their dinner, and after a moment, Blaine continued, "Actually, there's one more thing I wanted to run by you."

"What's that?"

"I want to dedicate it to Bonnie."

Kurt's excitement faded, replaced with an expression of solemn understanding. Kurt knew how close Blaine and Emily had become; whenever he swung by the studio during one of Emily's lessons they always seemed to be having the time of their lives, and they'd convinced Kurt to sing while they accompanied him on piano. Just last week Emily had finally gotten to the point where she didn't feel the need to use Kurt's full name anymore. "I think that's a wonderful idea. And I know that Emily will be really grateful."

Blaine nodded.

"There's only one condition," Kurt added, holding up a finger and pretending to look stern. "I want to be there when you tell Emily."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Blaine assured.


	22. Chapter 22: Give Me a Sign

**Chapter 22: Give Me a Sign**

Blaine frowned, and his fingers paused over the piano keys for a moment. He could have sworn he'd heard a noise somewhere in the apartment. _Is Kurt home early?_ His boyfriend was currently in upstate New York for a photoshoot and wasn't due home until dinnertime. He craned his neck to see out the cracked door into the living room. Nothing.

Deciding it was just his imagination, he continued with the song, breaking off to grab the pencil and scribble a new note onto his music sheet.

He heard it again. Definitely coming from the direction of the bedroom.

Thinking it was probably just the neighbors on that side, he got to his feet and padded out into the living room and across to the bedroom. He pushed the door open wider and then froze.

There was someone in there.

And it definitely wasn't Kurt.

He was a burly man, his face hidden with a black bandana. He hadn't noticed Blaine yet; he was busy helping another man in through the busted window. Glass sprinkled the carpet at their feet.

_Burglars?_

Then Blaine spotted the guns at their hips and broke out of his paralysis, whirling around and sprinting for the front door. _Get out. Find help. Call 911. Call Kurt._

"Hey!"

"Get him!"

He was only a few steps away from the door when something heavy slammed into him from behind and sent him crashing to the floor, smacking his chin on the kitchen tiles. He could taste blood in his mouth. He twisted around and managed to aim a clean shot to the guy's jaw, distracting him just enough to wriggle out from beneath him. He grabbed one of the barstools and knocked it into the side of the guy's head. The second man gave a roar and side-tackled him into the couch, which promptly flipped over. Blaine rolled out of his clutches and into the small side-table holding the antique jade vase Kurt had brought from his own apartment. It shattered on the floor by his head. He flung the table blindly behind him, but it must have missed the man because he heard it smash against the far wall, a picture frame falling to the floor and cracking.

"Move and you die, faggot."

Blaine's head snapped up. A third man was standing above him, handgun pointed directly between his eyes.

…

"Sweetie, I'm home!" Kurt called out cheerfully, shrugging out of his coat and gesturing for Mike to come in after him. "I brought Mike, too. I hope that's not a…"

His words teetered out into nothingness as he took in the state of the apartment. His eyes grew wide; his lips parted but no noise came out. It was a wreck – overturned furniture, shattered glass, a broken vase. Something had happened. Something bad.

"Blaine?" Mike tried. No answer.

"Blaine!" cried Kurt, panic in his voice. He rushed towards the bedroom and threw the door open. It looked exactly the way he'd left it that morning, apart from the shattered window. No Blaine in sight. The terror was rising, consuming him. He ran to the music room and was about to fling that door open as well when he saw the CD taped to it.

"Mike," he whispered, his voice cracking. He reached for it, but his fingers were shaking too badly. Mike came over and took the unmarked CD off the door. Leading Kurt over to the counter and lowering him down on one of the stools, he opened up Kurt's laptop and quickly popped the disc in.

There were three men standing around a tied-up Blaine in what Kurt recognized as the music room. They watched in silent horror as Blaine took hit after hit, grunting with pain, hardly ever crying out. More bruises. More blood. Kurt felt sick; tears were pouring down his face, his hand muffling his desperate gasps of breath._ Oh god. Blaine. No. Stop hitting him. Please. Stop it. Blaine._

Finally, Blaine looked up into the camera through blackened eyes, and Kurt felt like his gaze was trained directly on him as he spoke. "Kurt, I just keep thinking about that fight we had. At- At Sabrina's, remember? I never properly apologized for that…So I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're not dirt."

Kurt cried out when one of the masked men knocked Blaine out, and the screen went dark. A deep voice crackled from the computer's speakers. "If you try and go to the police, Blaine will be killed without hesitation."

The apartment rang with silence. It was deafening.

"_Blaine_," Kurt choked out, both hands pressed to his mouth as his body was wracked with sobs. Mike put a consoling arm around his shoulders. It did nothing to comfort him. "Wh- What are we supposed to do? H-How do we-? Blaine- We need to- Blaine!"

"Ssh, Kurt, calm down," Mike soothed. He looked rattled, but definitely more levelheaded than the model. He was staring at the now-blank screen thoughtfully. Kurt could practically see the wheels turning in his head. "We need to go to the police."

Kurt stared at him. "Are you-? Did you not hear what they said?" he screeched. "If we do that they'll kill Blaine! We can't risk it!"

"Well how else do you expect to find him then?"

"I- I don't know, maybe they left a message or- or–" Kurt thought of how dark, how intense those hazel eyes were, nearly swollen shut and shining with unshed tears as he spoke into the camera. To Kurt. _What if those are the last words I ever hear him say?_

Kurt's knees gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, crying harder than he'd cried in his entire life. His entire body shook; his breath came in jolting gasps; tears poured down his face. Everything hurt. He couldn't move. He couldn't think.

"I- I- I can't lose him," he managed to get out. "I can't- He's a-all I h-have!"

Mike crouched beside him, rubbing his back for a while, until he finally stood and headed towards the door. "I'm going to go to his studio, see if maybe we can get some clues there," he said. "Don't leave. Call me if you need anything, or they get in contact with you, or you find something." Kurt gave a jerky nod.

_What do I do?_

He moved on unsteady legs through the apartment, taking in the damage through tear-misted eyes. He wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for. A sign. A hint. A clue. A note. A message. Something that could tell him who took Blaine, where they were keeping him, why they were doing this, what he had to do to get him back. He stood in the music room for an immeasurable amount of time, exactly where the tripod had been set up, staring into the corner with the now-empty chair. A tiny streak of blood on the wall caught his eye. He just barely made it to the bathroom in time to vomit up everything in his stomach.

The door opened again, and Kurt rushed out of the bathroom. "Blaine?"

Mike grimaced at him apologetically. Behind him stood two officers.

Kurt blanched. "Mike!" he shrieked. "What did you do? You weren't supposed to- Now they're going to- Blaine will be–!"

His vision went hazy; the entire room swayed.

"Kurt, come on, you need to sit down," Mike coaxed, easing him back onto a barstool. "I know it's risky, but we _need_ them, Kurt. They understand the situation; we're keeping it as quiet as possible. Nobody has to know that something's happened. These guys are professionals. They'll find out who's taken Blaine and bring him home. I promise."

Kurt gave a shaky nod and sighed.

"Mr. Hummel?" One of the officers stepped forward, her expression sympathetic but severe. "We need to see that video."

He nodded and pushed the laptop in her direction. He couldn't bare to watch it again. Couldn't bare to see the pain, the silent torture on Blaine's face. Couldn't bare the thought of losing Blaine forever.

_We'd just found each other. He can't die. Not yet. There's so much we haven't done. I was going to take him to Paris with me, and get him to sign a copy of his EP for me, and introduce him to Katy Perry, and marry him, and we'd get a bigger apartment together, and maybe have a child or two, and grow old together, and–_

The sounds of Blaine's grunts and suppressed whimpers filled the otherwise silent apartment. Each one cut at Kurt's heart. It was painful just to breathe. He could feel every hit as if they were landing on himself as well.

"That's it?" the female officer asked after that edited voice warned not to get the police involved. "That's the end?"

"Yeah," Mike said.

The two officers exchanged a glance.

"What?" Kurt demanded. "What is it?"

The man spoke up. "It's just- There was no sort of request. No demand. If this was a normal kidnapping, they would have stated what they wanted in exchange for his return. Money, typically."

"I'll pay," Kurt blurted frantically. "Whatever they want, they can have it. I just want Blaine back. Please!"

"Sir, please calm down," the woman tried to soothe. "That's the problem – we don't _know_ what they want. We don't know what their angle is here."

Mike had Kurt go lie down after that; he was looking pale and green. Kurt could hear him talking with the officers, making sure they knew how crucial it was that nobody – especially the media – realized anything was up. The abductors couldn't know that the police had gotten involved; it would endanger Blaine's life.

_Is this my fault?_

The thought hit Kurt like a brick. _What if Blaine was kidnapped because someone is trying to get to me? It makes sense. Oh god, why didn't I hire security for _him_ too? Fuck, I'm so stupid. He's in danger because of me. Because he's dating me. Why didn't I think of this?_

Mike wanted to clean up the apartment, but they advised him not to touch anything. If they were lucky, they could get fingerprints, but Kurt was doubtful; the men in the video had been wearing gloves. More people began to arrive. There was lots of talking into radios and cell phones, lots of pictures taken, lots of questions asked and far too many gone unanswered. Kurt told them all he knew. When they finally let him leave, Mike took him to his and Tina's apartment – Kurt's old place – for the night. Kurt didn't care where they went; he knew he wouldn't be getting any sleep until he knew Blaine was alright.

"You should eat something," Mike advised quietly.

"Not hungry."

"Kurt–"

"No." Kurt didn't even glance at him, gaze fixated out the window. "I can't- I just can't. Blaine could be _dead_ by now, Mike. How could I possibly _eat_ at a moment like this?" He felt like he was going to be sick again.

Mike frowned. "Don't say that. He's not dead."

"How do you know?"

"Do _you_ think he's dead?"

Kurt fell silent. "No," he finally whispered. "I don't."

They didn't talk again for the rest of the night.

…

When Mike knocked gently on the guest room door the next morning and poked his head in, Kurt glanced up but otherwise gave no acknowledgement of his P.A.

"Hey," Mike said, soft and tentative, as if speaking to a scared animal. "Did you get any sleep at all?"

Kurt shook his head.

Mike sighed heavily and came into the room. "I've canceled all your plans for the next couple of days. Told everyone you came down with a bad cold. Everyone believed it and sends their best wishes. The police haven't found any fingerprints, but they're still looking."

Another nod. Kurt had expected that.

"They- They'll find something, Kurt. I promise."

Kurt said nothing. With another sigh, Mike turned and was about to slip back out into the hallway when the model finally spoke, his voice raspy from crying and lack of use. "It's my fault."

Mike frowned. "Sorry?"

Kurt cleared his throat, coughed a couple times. "It's my fault," he repeated. "Blaine was taken because he's dating _me_. There's no other logical explanation. Everyone knows he's the most important person in my life. They know I'll do anything – _give_ anything – to have him returned to me. What I just can't figure out is why they wouldn't leave a ransom note or something. I mean, it's not like I wouldn't give them what they wanted if I could! Is it money, do you think? I can give them money. I just- I need to know what they want! I'll cooperate! I just want- I just–" He pursed his lips; he refused to cry. He was sick of crying. Crying wasn't helping Blaine.

"Kurt." Mike came over to the unused bed and wrapped him up in a hug. Kurt let him, but it didn't make him feel any better. He wanted Blaine's arms. Blaine's smell. _Blaine_. "Don't do this to yourself."

"I put Blaine in danger." His voice wavered dangerously.

"You couldn't have known something like this would happen. It- We just have to find out who did this and get him back. Okay? The police are doing everything they can."

"It's not enough!"

"There's nothing else you can _do_," Mike reasoned. "Just…try and act normal? I know it'll be hard, but I think that's the best you can do for Blaine right now. Just make it seem like nothing's wrong. Let the police do their job."

Kurt crossed his arms. "Fine," he snapped. _How am I supposed to just sit around when I know that the love of my life could be bleeding to death at this very moment? How can I possibly pretend to be calm?_ He collapsed back across the bed. "Tell me the second you hear anything. Anything at all."

Mike nodded. "Of course. You'll be the first to know."

Kurt closed his eyes then, even though he knew sleep would not come easily. Mike flicked off the light and closed the door quietly behind him.

_Please_, Kurt begged. He didn't believe in God, or in any sort of higher power, but at this point he was willing to try anything. So he sent out a prayer to every deity he could think of, asking for Blaine's safety, for his quick return.

When he finally drifted into a restless sleep, he was haunted by images of a beaten and bloody Blaine.


	23. Chapter 23: Hint

**Chapter 23: Hint**

_They took him into the music room. Shoved the instruments carelessly to one side. Tied him to a chair with rope that cut off circulation. Gagged him. Set up a videotape._

_Then proceeded to beat the living crap out of him._

"_We need to finish up here," the second guy muttered. They'd been going at it for what felt like hours, although Blaine was honestly in no condition to judge time. He was wavering on the edge of unconsciousness; the darkness tempted him, promised a temporary relief from the pain. But somewhere in the back recesses of his mind, he could hear the men talking in low voices nearby, obviously under the impression Blaine was too far gone to understand any of what they were saying._

"_Gotta get him to Sebastian's," the first man agreed gruffly. "Chandler's waiting for 'im. He'll get pissed if we're late."_

_The third one grunted, switched back on the camera, and promptly slapped Blaine across the face. "Wake up, fairy. Time to give your last words to your fuckbuddy." The other two snickered. Blaine nearly puked._

Last words. A message. Think fast. Let Kurt know. Sebastian. Chandler.

_He used every ounce of energy he had left to raise his head and look into the videocamera. "Hurry up, cocksucker," the first man snapped._

_Blaine coughed up blood, grimaced, and left his final message, praying that Kurt caught the hidden meaning before it was too late. Then there was another sharp blow to the head, and he was finally dragged into the darkness._

…

Blaine drifted back into consciousness. He was lying on something cold and very, very hard. The air was putrid and stale. He tried to move and immediately regretted it – pain shot through his whole body. It felt like every inch of skin was bruised. He licked his dry lips and opened his swollen eyes as best he could.

It looked like a basement. Cement floor, dimly lit, no windows. His arms were tied behind him around a pillar that dug into his spine. His right foot was twisted oddly; it felt sprained, if not broken. Everything hurt from even the smallest of movements. He dreaded to think what the rest of him looked like, all black and blue and covered in dried blood.

_Kurt. Where's Kurt?_

The thought had only just crossed his mind when the sound of a door opening echoed through the basement and his head snapped up, daring to hope. His back was to the stairs, but he watched the silhouette on the opposite wall descend, listened to the footsteps getting closer until finally the person came into view. It most definitely wasn't Kurt. He had a smirk and dangerous green eyes.

_Sebastian_.

"Blaine," he leered, and there was something about the faux innocence in his voice that terrified Blaine even more than if he'd shouted. "How nice to see you again."

"Can't say I feel the same," he snapped with as much dignity as he could muster while tied up, throat raspy, black eyes nearly swollen shut. He still managed a glare, though.

Sebastian chuckled, unperturbed, and knelt in front of him, a hand on Blaine's twisted ankle. He hissed in pain. "Aw, don't be like that, baby. We're going to be spending quite some time together."

"Where's Kurt?" Blaine bit out.

A flash of something unpleasant crossed Sebastian's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. "I would be more worried about myself if I were you, sugar."

"Where. Is. Kurt?"

Sebastian grabbed his jaw, and Blaine gasped at the sudden pressure on his bruised face. "He's being taken care of. Now let it go before I get mad. From now on, the only person you should be thinking about is me, and me alone."

Blaine remained silent until Sebastian let him go with a rough jerk.

"Chandler," he managed to get out through the throbbing in his jaw. "He- He's part of this, isn't he?"

The taller man sneered. "Oh babe, he's the one who thought this all up in the first place. He wanted Kurt, so he needed to get you out of the picture, and I was more than willing to take you off his hands. This way we both win. Kurt will eventually give up on you and turn to Chandler for comfort, who will be there waiting with a shoulder to cry on, and I get you all to myself…"

Blaine felt his stomach churn. "You'll never get away with this."

Sebastian actually laughed at that. The sound sent a shiver down Blaine's spine. "We'll see about that."

"So, what, you're just going to keep me down here until I rot away?"

The model stood and headed back towards the stairs, out of Blaine's vision. "Don't be stupid. Chandler and I went through a lot of of trouble to get you guys separated. I don't intend to waste you. I have a lot of things planned for you…Just wait for tonight, sugar."

Blaine tilted his head back against the pillar and finally let the tears fall.

…

Kurt hadn't slept in two days.

"Sweetie, you need to eat something," Tina chided gently, holding out a plate piled high with fruits and vegetables. Kurt was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the mussed guest bed, shadows under his eyes, a deadened look on his face. "I could go get you some coffee from Sabrina's if you'd–?"

"No," he cut in. "Not- No. I'm fine." He couldn't handle the mere thought of Sabrina's; the place held too many memories for him. He took an uneven breath. "I'm fine," he said again. "I'm not hungry right now."

She frowned at him worriedly. "Kurt, you can't keep doing this to yourself. They'll find Blaine. But in the meantime, you've got to take care of yourself. This isn't what Blaine would have wan–"

"You don't know what Blaine would have wanted because _he's not here_," Kurt snapped. "Blaine is _gone_. He was taken right out of our apartment and I don't- I can't–" His throat closed up; he gazed up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. "I might not ever see him again, Tina."

"Don't talk like that!" she scolded, setting down the tray of food and crossing to the bed. She drew him in for a hug. "You'll see him again. The police will figure out who did this and track them down and bring Blaine back to us. To you. It's gonna be okay." She then reached back for the tray and added, "But in the meantime, you've _got_ to get something in you. You look like a ghost."

Kurt gave a weak chuckle and picked up a grape.

"The answer's right in my face," he sighed after a while, fiddling with a carrot stick. "I know it. There's something we overlooked. There's got to be some obvious reason for all this that we just haven't–"

His eyes grew wide, and his heart stuttered in his chest.

"_Kurt, I just keep thinking about that fight we had. At- At Sabrina's, remember? I never properly apologized for that…So I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You're not dirt."_

"Oh my god," he gasped. He felt sick.

"What?" Tina demanded, startled.

"I- I know who did this!" Kurt leapt out of bed and ran to the door. Tina quickly set aside the food and chased after him into the hallway. "God, _why_ didn't I realize sooner? I'm such an idiot! Blaine _told_ me who it was!"

"What?" Tina repeated.

"In his final message," Kurt rambled, fumbling as he tried to slide his shoes on and grab a coat at the same time. "He mentioned a fight we had at Sabrina's. At first I thought it was sort of weird that of all things he could have said he brought _that_ up, but I just realized that he wasn't _actually_ talking about a fight we had. Because remember how he said 'you're not dirt'? He was giving me a hint! God, I'm so _stupid_."

Tina frowned in confusion, panting a little as they hustled outside and flagged down a cab. "Okay? What am I missing?"

Kurt turned to her, breathless, eyes ablaze, color finally returning to his cheeks. "_Chandler_. Chandler said that to Blaine."

…

Mike met them at the police station. Kurt explained about the run-in with Chandler on Blaine's birthday, and how Chandler had been the one to say that Blaine was dirt, and the other model's obvious obsession with him. Mike looked murderous when he heard the story; "I _knew_ that sleezebag was up to no good."

The police, however, didn't consider it explicit enough evidence to act upon. They wanted something more concrete. When one of the officers suggested going to ask Chandler some questions, Kurt nearly had a panic attack and insisted against it. If Chandler found out they'd involved the police, he'd have Blaine killed. Kurt couldn't risk that. He was still clinging to the hope that somewhere, Blaine was still alive.

"Kurt, what are you doing?" Mike demanded when he abruptly stormed out, phone in hand.

"I'm calling Chandler."

"You're _what_?" Mike gasped. "Are you insane?"

Kurt hit the call button and held the phone up to his ear, glaring back at the police station's doors. He probably _was_ insane. But at this point he would do absolutely anything to get Blaine back safely. "They want evidence, I'll get them evidence."


	24. Chapter 24: The Room

**Chapter 24: The Room**

Mike hated Kurt's plan. He hated it and he made his opinion on the matter very clear.

But Kurt was stubborn. So the next night Mike found himself pulling up to the curb in front of Chandler's house a few miles outside the city lines.

"This is crazy," he declared, not for the first time. "Absolutely bat-shit crazy."

"Thanks for the encouragement," Kurt muttered. He eyed the house determinedly. "He has Blaine, Mike. I know it. I've got to do this."

Mike sighed heavily. "Okay, okay, fine. You remember what we agreed on, though?"

Kurt patted the cell phone in his pocket. "Call or text you the second I get any definitive evidence the police can use. Don't act alone. Get out the moment I sense any trouble."

"Good." Mike hesitated, then added, "Just…be careful, alright?"

Kurt nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the car. The walk up to the front door was simultaneously the shortest and longest distance he'd ever crossed. His head was held high but his heart was racing. _What am I doing? This is insane. I'm probably walking right into a trap for all I know. And what if it isn't him after all? What if I'm wrong?_

_No. It's him. Blaine wouldn't have left that hint for me if he wasn't sure I could figure it out. He needs me. I've _got_ to find him._

Kurt knocked twice. He glanced over his shoulder; the car was gone. Mike had told Kurt he would be somewhere close-by but out of sight. Kurt knew he was probably parked in the next block over, staring intently at his phone.

"Kurt!" Chandler practically sang as he answered the door. "Come in, come in, sweetie!"

"Thanks," Kurt murmured, controlling the urge to flinch at the term of endearment. Only Blaine was allowed to call him that. And maybe Rachel. But now was not the time to get testy about Chandler's lack of boundaries. Kurt had a job to do. He had a boyfriend to save. And a particular blond man to kill once this was all over.

He stepped inside. _Show time._

"Can I get you anything?" Chandler offered as he led Kurt into the spacious living room, his hand resting on Kurt's elbow. "Coffee? Tea? Perhaps something stronger…?"

_Yeah, so you can slip me roofies._ "No, thanks. I just had some coffee on the way here."

Chandler gestured towards the loveseat, but Kurt pretended not to have noticed and went for the plush leather recliner. Chandler perched himself on the end of the couch closest to him. It took everything Kurt had not to shrink away from him.

"So, you said over the phone there was something you wanted to talk to me about?" Chandler prompted gently, reaching out for Kurt's hand. Kurt immediately clasped his hands together in his lap – the epitome of anxiety – so Chandler's touch landed on his knee instead. Not much better. "You sounded pretty distressed…"

_The love of my life was beaten and abducted. Yeah, I'd say I'm fairly distressed. Thanks for noticing. Asshole._ "Something h-happened and I- I didn't know who else to turn to," he whimpered, grateful for his background in acting. He fiddled with his fingers and bit his lip.

"You can always talk to me," Chandler cooed. Kurt managed not to flinch when he squeezed his knee.

He took a shaky breath. "There- There's no easy way to say this…I just- I don't know what to do anymore. Blaine–" His throat closed up and his voice cracked, and that most definitely wasn't due to his acting skills. "He was kidnapped. Taken right out of our apartment."

He didn't miss the minute smile that flashed across Chandler's face. "Oh my god, that's horrible!" the blond model exclaimed, scooting still closer and taking both of Kurt's hands between his own. His hands were too small, too smooth, too _not Blaine's_. But Kurt still forced himself to squeeze back. "Have you told anyone? The police?"

_Of course that's what you care about._ "No, there was a- a video left by the kidnappers, and they warned me not to go to the police or else they'd kill Blaine, so- so no, I haven't spoken a word to anyone. It's _killing_ me!"

Chandler nodded solemnly. "It'll be okay. I promise. Let me deal with it, okay? You can trust me."

Kurt smiled thankfully, hid his utter contempt, blinked away genuine tears.

"Sorry, can- can I use your bathroom?" he sniffled, carefully removing his hands from Chandler's grasp. "Too much coffee…"

"Yeah, of course. Down that hall, turn left, it's the third door on the right."

"Thanks." Kurt got to his feet and quickly moved off down the hallway indicated, waiting until he'd turned the corner and was out of sight to slow to a stop and look around. He strained his ears for something, anything to indicate where Blaine might be.

It was unnervingly silent in the house.

He began to open doors at random, getting more and more desperate by the second. Then, at the very end of the hallway, at the very last door, he peered inside a room hardly larger than a closet and his blood ran cold.

There was a single light dangling from the center of the ceiling. He clicked it on, and then immediately wished he hadn't. The walls were plastered with magazine clippings, photographs, scrawled notes – all of him and Blaine. Kurt felt nauseous. When had he taken all of these? There were shots of them getting in and out of cars, entering and exiting their apartment building, even a few of them through their fifth-story window. Near the middle of the opposite wall was a detailed schedule of Blaine's lessons – aka, the times when he'd be home and when he'd be out. There were even estimated days of when the two of them were most likely to go to Sabrina's for coffee together.

With shaking hands, Kurt pulled out his phone and snapped a couple pictures of the walls. He had just attached them to a message to Mike when a sound behind him made him jump and whirl around.

"You said you were going to the bathroom."

It was chilling how calm the blond man was.

"You said you wanted what was best for me," Kurt countered, voice quivering with fear. Behind his back, his thumb brushed over his screen, and he prayed it sent the message before he slipped it into his pocket.

"I do," Chandler said. "And I meant it."

The door behind him clicked shut.

…

"Wakey wakey, Sleeping Beauty," a leering voice sounded in Blaine's ear. He winced as he yet again became aware of every ache in his body; consciousness was no longer his favorable state of being. When he tried to return to the darkness, though, there was a sharp kick at his most-likely sprained ankle. He gasped, and his eyes flew open. "There we go."

"What do you want?" he bit out through gritted teeth. His jaw was swollen and he could barely see out of his left eye.

"Don't you remember last night?" Sebastian smirked, crouching down next to him and trailing a finger non-too-gently down Blaine's bare chest. He flinched when the fingernail dragged over his bruised ribs. "I think you know exactly what I want…"

Blaine spat in his face. Sebastian reeled back in surprise, then swiped angrily at the blood-tinted spit near his eye. "You disgusting little–" A blunt kick to his side made Blaine cry out and curl in on himself. Or at least, as much as he could with his hands tied around a pillar. "You don't learn very fast, do you?"

Blaine said nothing.

The model knelt beside him again and gently wiped away some of the drying blood from Blaine's forehead. The tender gesture was unnerving. "You know, I don't want to have to keep hurting you like this…As soon as you learn to stop disobeying me, you'll see we could actually be quite happy together."

Blaine gave a tiny chuckle.

"We will never be happy together, you sick bastard."

Sebastian's jaw clenched, and then another blow returned Blaine to the welcomed darkness.

…

The deadbolt locked into place. It sounded like gunfire to Kurt. There was something in Chandler's blue eyes that positively terrified him – a demented gleam, an obsessiveness he'd only ever barely scratched the surface of. They never strayed from Kurt, never even blinked. "I'm what's best for you. You, being with me – that's the best for you. We both know it."

"Where's Blaine?" Kurt demanded, wishing his voice sounded more powerful.

Chandler frowned, but then smirked. "There's no point looking for him. You might as well just give it up already – he's of no use to you anymore. I know you, sweetie. You're going to realize that he was never really the one for you. That's why you're here, right? Because you know, deep down, we were meant to be together. You don't have to worry about him anymore. I told you I'd take care of him."

Kurt's mouth worked, but he had no words. Anger was bubbling up through his fear. He wanted to run and hide, because Chandler was obviously delusional and very dangerous, but at the same time he wanted to punch him. He wanted him to know what he'd put them through. He wanted him to suffer.

Suddenly, footsteps sounded down the hallway, along with deep voices calling "Clear! Clear!" as doors were banged open.

Kurt gasped. "In here!" he shouted. "We're in h–"

"Shut up," Chandler hissed, lunging forward and smacking a hand over Kurt's mouth, pressing him up against the wall. His eyes were flashing.

The locked knob jiggled for a moment, and then a pause. Kurt held his breath, even though it felt like his heart was beating right out of his chest. Then, with an ear-splitting crash, the door was busted in and men in uniforms stormed inside, shouting for hands up and nobody moving and Kurt was so relieved his knees gave out from beneath him. Chandler was shrieking that Kurt loved him and they needed to be together and they had nothing against him and Kurt promptly doubled over and vomited.

"Find Blaine," he choked out as a couple of the officers helped him to his feet. "Please. Blaine. Find him!"

They led him outside, where a handcuffed Chandler was being forced into the backseat of a cop car and Mike was standing with crossed arms and a panicked expression.

"Kurt!" he cried. "Oh, thank god. I got the pictures and I thought- I was afraid–"

Kurt collapsed into his arms and began to sob.

"Where's Blaine?" he hiccuped. "Wh-Where is he? I want Blaine…"

Mike rubbed his back, shushing him and trying in vain to calm him down. What felt like hours later, a police officer came over and cleared his throat to get their attention. Kurt's head snapped up.

"Blaine?" was all he asked, wiping his nose and glancing around expectantly.

The older man looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, sir. Blaine Anderson isn't in the house."

Kurt just stared at him. "What?" he finally whispered. There was no way he heard that correctly.

He shook his head. "We've searched the entire house. Apart from that room we found you two in, there's nothing suspicious. Wherever he's keeping Mr. Anderson, it's not here."

Kurt's legs gave out for a second time, and Mike just barely caught him in time before he blacked out.


	25. Chapter 25: Lost and Found

**Chapter 25: Lost and Found**

There was a streak of light cutting through the din of the basement from upstairs, but Blaine hardly had the energy to lift his head, much less turn around to see who it was. He already knew, anyway. Sebastian. It was always Sebastian. He knew Kurt was doing everything in his power to find him, but Blaine was beginning to lose hope that someone would come in time. He was weak, far too weak, and he knew in the back of his mind he wouldn't be able to last much longer.

"Good morning, babe," Sebastian greeted with his familiar leer. But it looked…_off._ Or perhaps Blaine was just imagining things. Sebastian crouched down next to him and set down a tray of food by his feet, just out of arms reach. He stroked a hand lightly down his bruised cheek. Blaine bit at his fingers; Sebastian smacked him.

"Although maybe I shouldn't be saying 'good morning.' It seems your precious little boyfriend has gone and gotten Chandler _arrested_. Fuckin' bastard." He didn't sound particularly worried; more just annoyed. "Of course, poor Chandler wasn't an idiot – there's nothing in his house that could possibly link him to me." The confidence in his voice grew with each word, and Blaine's stomach churned. "Don't worry, love, you're not gonna be leaving anytime soon. So maybe if you start _behaving_ you can move up to the main house. There's an empty side of my bed just calling your name…"

Blaine clenched his teeth to keep from saying anything.

With an impatient sigh, the taller man kicked the tray closer. "Eat up, baby. Don't want you to waste away now do we?"

Once again, Blaine held his tongue. He hadn't eaten a thing since his abduction and he was starving. The ropes around his wrists had been lengthened sometime while he was unconscious so that they were just long enough for him to reach the food, and he immediately grabbed for a piece of toast. Sebastian left, the slice of yellow light disappearing as the door closed behind him, leaving the basement in almost complete darkness yet again.

It hurt to chew; his swollen jaw throbbed with each bite and tears pricked his eyes, but he powered through it. He chugged half the glass of orange juice before he realized there was a small bottle of Ibuprofen sitting on the tray next to the bowl of fruit.

He hesitated; he knew he shouldn't trust that the pills inside were actually what the label claimed them to be. But on the other hand, his ankle was killing him and the constant pain, the soreness, the dull ache all over his body had been present for far too long. He was desperate for some sort of relief. So he swallowed down four of the tiny red painkillers, chased them with the rest of his orange juice, and then settled back, waiting for them to kick in enough for him to finish eating.

Apparently it really was Ibuprofen, because after a while the pain seemed to ease. When he was done with his food, he nudged the tray away and closed his eyes, wincing as the cold, hard pillar pressed mercilessly against his bare back. He needed to sleep. He needed to rest up and recover his strength. He needed to stay as strong as possible.

He needed to _survive_.

…

Burt flew in as soon as he found out. Kurt hadn't wanted to tell him – said it would be too stressful, and there was no way he could handle his father getting another heart attack on top of everything else that was going on – but Mike pointed out that Burt would probably be even _more_ upset if he found out about it after the fact.

So he flew in, and the second he arrived at Mike's apartment Kurt collapsed into his arms.

"We're gonna find him," Burt muttered firmly. His arms were strong and familiar around his son. "He's gonna be alright. Blaine's strong, he's gonna survive."

"Where is he?" Kurt choked out, face buried into his collar. "I n-need him, Dad."

"We'll find him," Burt repeated. He rubbed Kurt's back soothingly. "The police know what they're doing. They'll find something soon enough. We just gotta stay positive, okay? They caught the bastard who took him, so it's just a matter of time before they get him to talk. In fact–"

Kurt's phone rang. He fumbled for it, hope flaring in his chest like it did every time it rang these days. "H-Hello?" he answered on the second ring.

"Kurt Hummel?" a deep voice said from the other end of the line. "This is Officer Rider, from the NYPD."

Kurt's heart leapt, and he drew in a sharp breath. "Yes! Yes, I'm Kurt Hummel. Do you have any news about Blaine?"

He listened as if in a dream. The men that had done the actual kidnapping – the ones apparently hired by Chandler – panicked when they found out he'd been arrested and came forward to try and get immunity by confessing everything. Blaine was at Sebastian Smythe's house, according to them. A squad had been dispatched immediately, and they found Blaine tied up in the basement. He was currently being transported to the hospital – stable but in need of immediate medical attention. Sebastian Smythe was apprehended and is now in police custody.

"He's alright?" Burt pressed the second Kurt hang up.

"He's alright," Kurt confirmed, breathless and a little lightheaded with relief. "He- He's at the hospital. We- I have to–"

"Let's go," was all Burt said, leading the way to the front door.

…

When they arrived, Kurt was surprised to find someone else waiting outside Blaine's room, pacing up and down and fiddling absently with the charm on his cell phone. When he spotted them approaching, he froze in his tracks.

"You- You're Kurt Hummel, right?"

"Yes," he said impatiently, really not in the mood to autograph anything at the moment.

"Hi, I'm- My name's Cooper Anderson. Blaine's older brother."

He stuck out his hand. Kurt, although shocked at the unexpected meeting, shook it. Now that he actually took a second to look, Kurt could see the same olive skin, the same twinkle in his eyes, the same thick dark hair. He was quite a handsome man, but right now the only man Kurt could think of was the one behind that door.

"I came as soon as I heard. Mom and Dad didn't think to tell me about Blaine getting kidnapped until last night. I went straight to the police station when I landed, and they told me that he'd been found. I just got here a few minutes ago and so far all I know is that they're not letting anyone in to see him yet."

"They said he was stable, though!" Kurt said, quickly escalating towards hysterics as he stared at the bland door numbered 309. "He's stable! Why can't we see him?"

Burt put a steadying hand on his shoulders. "Calm down. Take a breath. I'm sure they're just checking him over. Come on, let's sit down and wait for the doctors."

Kurt reluctantly sat down between his father and Mike. Tina offered to go fetch them some coffee, which they accepted gratefully. Cooper remained standing, returning to his pacing and fiddling. Every time a hospital personnel passed them they paused and looked up, but it was never for Blaine.

Until finally, the door to room 309 opened and a doctor stepped out. He looked temporarily taken aback at the number of people standing in the hallway, all staring at him expectantly.

"Are you here for Blaine Anderson?" he asked.

"Yes," they chorused.

He cleared his throat. "Well, the good news is that we expect him to make a full recovery. He's got a badly sprained ankle, a minor concussion, and a bit of internal bruising. He's showing signs of dehydration, and he lost a lot of blood, but we're confident we'll be able to bring him back to full strength in time. He's got a fair amount of contusions that make him look a lot worse off than he really is."

"Can we see him now?" Kurt said breathlessly, itching to just push the doctor aside and go in.

"I'm afraid he's very weak at the moment, and tired from all the tests we administered," the older man said apologetically. But at their identical expressions of distress, he added, "I suggest that only one of you go in. For now. Are any of you his family?"

They all turned to Cooper. He, however, looked to Kurt. "He is," Cooper lied, nodding to indicate Kurt. "Let him go in."

Kurt's eyes widened, and he mouthed a silent 'thank you' before turning the doorknob and slipping inside.

Blaine looked so small lying there in that hospital bed, all pale and bandaged up. After a moment Kurt pulled over the chair from the corner of the room, right up next to the bed, and took his boyfriend's limp hand between his own. "Blaine?" he whispered. No immediate response. "Blaine, it's Kurt. I'm here. I'm right here next to you." His voice broke, and he tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "Please, open your eyes. I- I need to know you're okay…"

Blaine groaned. Kurt leaned in, hands tightening around Blaine's fingers. "Blaine?" The musician slowly blinked his eyes open. (Or at least as much as they would go; the left one was still pretty swollen). His hazel gaze landed on Kurt, and his eyebrows twitched together.

"Kur'?" he rasped out.

Kurt grinned through his tears. "Hi, honey."

"Is it really you?" he breathed. His fingers twitched weakly in Kurt's hands. "Are you real?"

"Yes," Kurt half-laughed, half-sobbed. "Yes, it's me, it's really me. I'm here. God, Blaine, you're _alive_. I thought- I was so scared–" He broke down, burying his face into the blankets and holding onto Blaine's hand like a lifeline.

"Don't cry, Angel," Blaine whispered. He gently squeezed back. "Please, don't- please stop crying. I hate it when you cry. Please…"

"I'm sorry," Kurt choked, straightening up and brushing at his wet cheeks. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Blaine. I'm sorry–"

"Hey. Why are you apologizing?"

Kurt's bottom lip quivered. "If it weren't for me…God, if you'd never met me none of this would have hap–"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," Blaine said, his voice firm even though it was quiet and hoarse. "This isn't your fault. None of it. You can't blame yourself. The only people to blame are the bastards who put me in this bed: Sebastian and Chandler."

Kurt's jaw tightened just from the sound of their names. "They're behind bars, where they belong," he assured.

Blaine flashed him a weak smile. "Good. Now will you _please_ give me a kiss?"

Kurt laughed wetly and leaned forward to press his lips gently to Blaine's, careful not to apply too much pressure. Blaine's face was stained with red and purple and yellow and Kurt didn't want to bring any more pain to him than he was already in.

"I'm so glad you're alright," Kurt murmured, stroking his hair back from his forehead and pressing another kiss to his temple. "I'm _so_ glad. I- I don't know what I'd do if you- if you weren't…"

"Ssh," Blaine soothed, lacing their fingers together. "I'm here. I'm fine. I'm not going anywhere. It's going to take a lot more than that to keep me away from you."

Kurt laughed again, bubbly and a little hysterical. "Same for me."

Blaine smiled tiredly up at him, eyes sliding shut again. "Love you," he mumbled before falling back under the power of the painkillers being pumped through his veins. Kurt allowed himself one more lingering kiss, thanking whichever deity was responsible for bringing Blaine back to him, before gently slipping his hand free and stepping outside to let everyone know he was alright.


End file.
